Violent Deliverance
by Fairy.Kai
Summary: Violent Black. Traitor. Death Eater. This is her seventh year at Hogwarts - she's alone, broken and undecided. Lost in a world of confusion and death. "It's too late to save me..." -Sequel to Violent Deception-
1. Chapter One

**Violent Deliverance**

**Chapter One:**

"Violent, you're following Snape," said Lucius from his position at the head of the table. "Aim to kill."

I was sitting on Lucius Malfoy's left, between him and Draco, and listening intently to the next item on the list of Barbaric Things I Never Want to Tell My Children About. This time, it was capturing Harry Potter and possibly torturing him also. But that basically went without saying.

"Whatever," I muttered. But Draco's father ignored me. As always.

I was sick of being ignored. I was sick of always being tired. I was sick of always feeling alone. I was sick of it all. And now, with this plan hanging over my head, I actually felt physically nauseous.

"When are we leaving?" I heard someone ask.

"In about fifteen minutes," replied Lucius, an evil grin lighting his features. "So I suggest you all get ready."

I stood up first and stormed out of the enormous dining hall. Yes, the Malfoys called their spacious eating area a 'dining hall'. So posh. It seemed I was doing a lot of storming these days. According to Draco (my sort-of depending-on-my-mood boyfriend), I enjoyed the tension it released. I showed him a different way to relieve tension...

Kidding! I'm no Pansy. I was totally talking about my flying skills. Yeah, I could have made the house team, if I could stand to be within a ten meter radius of Harry Pooper without dying from exposure to nuclear material. And yes, I classify Potter's body odour as nuclear material. Can you imagine sharing a changing room with The Boy Who Smells? I made my way to the broom cupboard in the third hall (yeah, they have that many that they have to number them) and wrenched the door open.

"Good evening, Violent," I turned and smiled at the source of the intrusion. Severus Snape was standing a meter away from me, shrouded in black. Surprise, surprise.

"Why, good evening, professor!" I replied with false gusto. He picked up on my sarcasm, but said nothing and simply reached past me for a broom. "Can I help you?"

Snape held up what appeared to be a silver sheet of metal. It reflected the flickering light in the hall and made my eyes flicker with the movement. "You left in such a hurry, you forgot your mask."

He handed me what was not a sheet of silver metal, but a silver mask, pounded into the imprint of a skull. Cool. Bitch Violent to Traitor Violent to Goth Violent. What next?

I slipped it into the pocket of my ebony robe. I nodded my thanks to him and he handed me the broom he had selected. A sleek looking Nimbus Two Thousand and Five. I noticed that he didn't take one himself. Of course, Snape was way too cool to fly on a common broom stick...

"Are you ready?" asked Snape.

I shot him The Look. Yeah, I'd come to label it. It's a mixture between a glare and scowl and I'm told it's quite frightening.

Snape said nothing, except he indicated that I was to follow him. Was I ready? He had asked. Answer is no. I was not ready. I doubt I would ever be ready for this.

I pulled the mask over my face, hiding once again.

**~xox~**

"To the left!" my greasy haired partner shouted. I leaned my weight in the direction Snape told me, following on the tail of Harry Potter's broom.

The night was alight with curses and jets of light. There were yells of confusion and screams of pain as the bursts of magic hit its victims. I could see people falling from their brooms, plummeting like shot pigeons to the ground.

"There!" shrieked Snape. He was pointing at a figure, barely metres ahead of me. I could barely see; the light in the sky was blinding.

I manage to make out two figures on brooms: Potter and Professor Lupin.

No. Please. No more death...

"Kill Lupin, Violent!" screamed Snape, the distress evident in the deep lines in his pallid face.

"No!" I shouted back, my voice carrying on the wind. "There's no need!"

Snape growled his frustration and raised his wand. I shut my eyes, not able to bear another murder.

"Sectumsempra!" he cried.

_That wasn't a killing spell_, I thought, my hope rising once more.

_Please escape, Potter. I can't kill you._

I heard a yell of pain, and the duo of Potter and Lupin began a steep descent towards the ground. I pulled back, though Snape seemed intent on going faster. His business, I reminded myself.

This is like a repeat of my entire summer. I murdered someone last month. A young wizard, couldn't have been more than thirty. Voldemort sent me, along with Bellatrix, for some target practise .It was self-defence, too. Bellatrix mysteriously 'forgot' to restrain him and the man attempted to disarm me. In truth, I had only tried to _crucio_ him, but the spell didn't work – damn my magical retardation – and came out as a killing curse. He was a ministry worker, and the Dark Lord needed him disposed of. I act like it's no big deal, especially around the others, but I'm disgusted. I don't want to kill more people. But I know that I'll probably have to.

I don't want this.

**~xox~**

"You killed George Weasley!" I screamed at him as I leapt off my broom on a deserted street in the middle of the night in Surrey, London. "You're a psychopath!"

Severus Snape flew, yes, I said _flew_, to the ground, surveying me with distaste and mild disgust.

"Don't look at me like that," I snapped.

"You need to make it look real," he said silkily. It sounded like a threat.

"What? By murdering my schoolmates? Sorry, I'm just not that _real_."

Snape eyed me as I stalked off down the deserted street. He followed, keeping on my heels, his black cloak all but blending into the shadow of the night. The glinting silver mask that twirled from his fingertips was the only source of colour I could detect, other than the pallid skin of his face and hands.

"If you are not believable," he murmured softly. "Then the Dark Lord will kill you."

I rolled my eyes and walked faster. "Gee, because I haven't wanted that all summer."

Snape cursed. I smiled dully. "Your new-found suicidal tendencies need to be put aside. You can't think like that."

I laughed out loud. "Serious? Every choice I make will end in me dying. Every choice I _don't_ make ends in me dying. On top of that, everyone around me, even _you_, keeps telling me that I'm going to be murdered sooner rather than later if I don't follow the rules. And just think of how many people want me dead, hm. I'm liking my chances. Excuse me if a peaceful, calm death sounded like a pretty good idea after the one person who could protect me – Dumbledore - got killed. By _you_, I might add."

I'm not sure I was really trying to kill myself that night. I just... stepped off the roof of the tower at Malfoy Manor. I would have introduced myself to the well-manicured lawn, had Lucius not seen me, er, jump, and magically broke my fall. Bastard.

But really. I hadn't even thought about death, or the ease of suicide. I just wanted to know what it felt like to fall. To just focus on the air rushing past me.

Draco was furious. If his mother hadn't pulled him off, he would have throttled me to death. No kidding.

"Violent..."

"Yeah, I know, alright. I know what you all expect me to do. It's just... I can't kill anyone, okay? I can't hurt people like you can, just for the sake of playing a part," I explained as the hook nosed man fell into step beside me. "It's not right."

"Go home, Violent. I'll deal with the others. Well, the ones that saw your strange behaviour, anyway."

I shook my head. "Not going back there," I said forcefully. Malfoy Manor was not a happy place at the moment. Lucius was out of prison, Narcissa was hiding from her husband in the library and Draco was in a strop, dealing with his daddy-issues. And Miriam-Rose, my used-to-be-sweet half sister, had been introduced to the art of clubbing the house elves with her new Morgana doll. I suspect Draco taught her that.

Snape's face darkened, he straightened, visibly preparing for an argument. "Oh? And where are you going then? Seeing as you have to be at Kings Cross to get on the Hogwarts Express at precisely eleven o'clock in six day's time."

I shrugged. "I'll make the train, don't worry."

"Where are you going? Violent?" He pulled me back with a rough hand on my shoulder. I snarled and peeled his claw-like hand off my cloak. I released his hand with a low, guttural growl.

"I have to speak to Professor Lupin."

Snape's eyes widened. 'No. You can't –"

I groaned and turned back to face him. "I'm good at Occlumency, Snape. I have been since I was eleven. How the bloody hell do you think I survived so long, huh? I've met with Voldemort three times since you murdered Dumbledore and he still hasn't killed me. I think I can keep the secret, and I hope that you can, Severus. I need to see Lupin."

"But, we haven't planned or anything," said Snape, back peddling. "We need to work out what to do. Albus –"

"Is dead. And I have tried to plan with you but you keep brushing me off, Severus."

"Violent, you need to wait. I need you to wait."

I sighed and shook my head. "I can't wait forever Severus. I can't wait for you to rediscover your morals – or your balls - and I can't wait for you to help me. I can't wait. I'm going to see Lupin."

"Where? They're not using the old safe house anymore."

"I'll figure it out."

Snape's earnest expression turned into the sneer. At least I was used to it. "How? What spell will you use, Violent? You're practically a squib."

"Fuck off, Severus. I said I'd figure it out, okay? Now leave me alone."

He swore and stormed off. Had I not turned and kept walking, I would have seen him leap into the air in a cloud of black smoke and robes.

**~xox~**

Yeah. A wedding of Weasels is not the occasion I would willingly choose to crash. Except that's exactly what I did.

Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. The Veela and the Carrot-top; adorable. Or vomit-worthy.

I spent most of the week cooped up in a gothic muggle tavern, waiting until the set date to re-emerge as 'Cousin Madeleine', a distant Delacour relative. I'm not lying when I say the little inn was gothic. The pattern on my bedspread was a bunch of nooses and the people all wore black. Black clothes, black hair and black makeup. Their piercings were many and varied and I got to inspect some guy's tattoo; a picture of a man bleeding to death quite painfully.

And I thought I was fucked up.

You might ask how someone as magically retarded as myself could get into a top security wedding. Well, I didn't screw the bouncer, for starters. I simply transfigured my face into that of a twenty-year-old buxom blonde woman and stole someone's invitation. Simple as. McGonagall would be so proud, excluding the fact that I was now a traitor with a price on my head.

I ignored the happy wedding attendees and sought only to find Remus Lupin. I didn't quite know what I was going to say to him, or how I was going to get him to listen to me without calling in the aurors. In fact, I was pretty sure he'd freak out when I removed my disguise and showed myself to him. I don't think Professor Lupin saw me as his favourite student. Not by a long shot. But then again, he loved Harry more than Dumbledore, so I didn't like him so much either.

The ceremony was dull, the dress was ... white, the groom was ugly. I was bored out of my brain.

I swear, if I ever get married – cough unlikely cough – I would so do something to liven up the atmosphere. Like, blow up something. Make the celebrant cry... or better yet, make the groom cry.

Finally, after a good ten minutes of searching following the tedious vows, my eyes landed on Lupin and his pink haired, werewolf-loving fiancé standing at the back of the marquee. I started to make my way over to them. Everyone was starting to leave their seats. I hoped it wouldn't be conspicuous if I just walked down the aisle and dragged him off.

Yeah. I was going to be relying on physical strength rather than magical skill. Because, er, I had little in the latter. Mentally pumping myself up, I stood and began to walk towards my sandy haired guardian. The woman called Nymphadora Tonks saw me first and nudged her fiancé. Lupin looked at me.

"Mr Lupin," I said, trying to cover my voice. I hadn't counted on being recognised and hadn't charmed my voice. Not that I was capable of it anyway. "Might I have a quick word in private?"

Lupin frowned. "Uh, who are you?"

"Mademoiselle François-Delacour. But you may call me Madeleine."

I have to say, I was extremely proud of the French accent I put on. A week's worth of practising in front of the bathroom mirror had honed it to almost perfection.

"About?"

Suspicious much? Oh well, I suppose he _did_ have good reason. We had been picking off Order members all through summer.

"Oh... nothing in particular. I have, er, a message to deliver."

"From?"

I almost, _almost_ rolled my eyes. Wasn't I making him curious enough to follow me? Could he just quit with the one-word questions? For, like, a minute?

"Someone you would be _extremely_ interested to hear from. And no doubt surprised also. Please, I really do not have much time."

The pink haired woman whispered something. It sounded negative. I threw her a glare, just for good measure.

Damn, she didn't see...

"Alright," said Lupin after a few moments hesitation. "But just over there, okay?"

I beamed at him, surprised at my own ability to create such a wide, convincing smile after... well after the summer from hell. "Thanks!"

He led me out of the marquee, to the fringe of the garden. I could feel the watchful gaze of his somewhat annoying fiancé on my back as we left her there.

"So, who's the message from?"

I hesitated. Here we go. The point of no return. "Would you mind throwing up a _muffliato_ or something? It is extremely private."

He shrugged and performed a non-verbal spell. Phew, glad he didn't ask why I couldn't do it myself.

"Okay, shoot."

"I'm not Madeleine Delacour. I used to be a student of yours. Violent Faithe."

Lupin's open, kind face, twisted into a frown. "Yes, I remember you."

I still look like a z-cup blonde though? Wow, maybe Lupin goes for hookers...

Sighing inwardly, I blurted out, "You're my guardian."

Lupin froze. "You're Callista's kid?"

I nodded.

He sandy haired werewolf swore. "I got a letter. I'm so sorry, Violent."

I wondered if he had a clue who my dad was. Then he'd _really_ be sorry.

"Whatever. Anyway, I –"

Pain.

Left arm.

Fire.

Agony.

My right hand reached for my Mark, my fingernails scrabbling at it, trying desperately to ease the sudden burst of pain.

In my head rang the words, _The ministry has fallen._

"Shit," I moaned. It wasn't meant to be this soon. The plan had been to take down Scrimgeour on Thursday. Fuck!

"What is it?" asked Lupin in genuine concern. I don't think he noticed me cradling my left arm. Had he been switched on, it would have been a dead giveaway.

I took a deep breath. "I don't have time. Voldemort just took the ministry. Is Potter here? Yes? Get him out. Now. Evacuate. They're coming."

"What the hell, Violent?" he demanded. "Slow down."

Gasping in fear, I muttered to myself, "Can't be seen here... Get out, get out."

"Why can't you be seen here? Are you really a –"

"Death Eater? Yep. I have to go. Can I write you another time and meet up? I have a message from Dumbledore."

Lupin's eyes widened still further. "But –"

"Yeah, he's dead, trust me, I _know. _I may be a traitor, but I can still be useful, Remus."

He nodded. "Write me. Now, get out, quick."

"I'm off. Thank you. Please don't tell anyone. You have a traitor amongst you as well."

"Who?"

"I haven't been told. Also –"

Suddenly there was havoc in the main garden. A patronus appeared, apparently delivered a message (I already knew that it would be giving the news about the ministry) and there was mass-panic. People where running everywhere.

My breath ragged, I continued quickly, trying to pass on most of the important information, "Also, Hogwarts is going to be different. Snape's going to be Headmaster, The Dark Lord just decided. I have to go."

And that was it. I turned around and bolted from the garden. On the way, I grabbed one of the emergency port-keys that were being handed out for evacuation purposes. Shit, they hadn't left anything to chance.

The familiar feeling of losing half your body in a swirl of confusion and uncertainty overwhelmed me once more. I landed in a pile of dirt in...

I looked around, trying to find a street sign, the barest hint of information as to where I was.

Sighing, I turned and began meandering aimlessly down the street.

Fuck, that went well.

I groaned and reached into my pocket for the fake galleon I kept there. Although outwardly, Snape and I despised the Mudblood, the communication system for their little DA club was pretty useful. Snape agreed that we could use it – after mumbling and grumbling – to contact each other. I tapped my wand against the smooth golden surface and felt it heat up in my hand. Somewhere, Snape's was doing the same thing.

We had modified Granger's design, so that Snape could apparate directly to me, considering I had never taken my test. I probably should learn, eh? Actually, I didn't want the disappointment of not being able to apparate – yet another item to add to the list of Things I Cannot Do and Have No Hope of Achieving. It's getting pretty long.

I felt a rush of air beside me as Snape apparated.

"Ahh, the prodigal returns..."

I grinned. "Prodigal? I haven't come back just yet."

"Are you going to the Malfoy's? The Carrows are there for dinner."

My less-than-satisfactory grin fell into a frown. "In that case... just take me to Kings Cross. It's only a few hours to morning anyway. The train leaves at eleven."

"And your belongings?"

"What belongings?" I responded with a grimace. "Narcissa burned all my clothes. Draco will bring my stuff."

Snape shrugged, grabbing my arm, side-along apparating me to Kings Cross Station. I thanked him and he turned to leave. He turned back around though, just before he disapparated.

"And by the way, Violent," he sneered. "You look like a gothic prostitute in that guise."

Pop. He disapparated. What a bitch. He calls me a whore and runs away. Classy.

I sighed and began wandering aimlessly along the empty platforms. It's not like I was in a hurry. I was silently panicking over the fact that I had never bothered to teach myself how to return to my regular looks. Sigh. Oh well, Draco could fix me up in a few hours when he gets here. Snape would no doubt mention that I look like a skank, just for kicks.

I sat down on an empty bench between platforms nine and ten and hoped that my rather provocative new form garnered no more attention than I strictly wanted.

**~xox~**

I woke to the sound of a train whistle and the rush of muggles hurrying to work. A gentle arm was shaking my shoulder. I stared blearily until the pale, pointed face I knew so well came into focus.

"Rise and shine, Violent," he grinned down at me. "The sun is out, the birds are chirping –"

"Fuck off..." I grumbled. My sleeping patterns were all screwed up. Usually I woke at dawn every morning. Lately I had been sleeping in, just so I didn't have to face people.

"Snape said you looked like a stripper on some sort of narcotics, what, with that crazed look you always have in your eyes," he sniggered. "I hadn't counted on him being _right_."

"Leave me alone," I moaned. "Wait, I take that back. You can fix the spell. I don't know how."

He shrugged. "Sure, but only on the platform, okay?"

I rolled my makeup-smudged eyes. "Well, duh. Muggles, remember?"

He smiled. "No need to worry about ministry laws anymore, Violent. My dad pretty much owns it now."

"Brag, much?" I muttered as he led me through the stone wall that led to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. "Did you bring my things?"

"What's left of them. Yeah, they're already loaded on the train. Here," he said, pushing me towards the bathrooms on the far left. "We can switch you around in there."

I leaned against the dirty – like I cared – white tiled wall as Draco flicked his wand at me. I felt a shivery, chill feeling run up my spin and I raised my hands to double check. Yep, long, deathly straight blue-black hair, long fingered pale hands, teeth a tad smaller. Back to me. Except...

"Draco Malfoy, you return my tits their normal size right _now_!"

He groaned and swished his wand. No, not that wand; the wooden one. Heh. Oh yeah, and over the summer I had a spiffing competition of Best Dirty Jokes with Rodolphus. I won, of course. And the habit had stayed...

We exited the bathroom and pushed our way through the somewhat smaller crowd of pulsing students and their families. Unlike every other year, the atmosphere on the platform today was tense. Parents were worried, now that Dumbledore had been killed, that the Ministry had fallen, that their children were no longer safe.

It happened as I was thinking this; the tugging of the sleeve, and the voice of a young child. "Mummy, aren't they the people who killed Professor Dumblydore?"

My guts constricted, Draco flinched beside me. Suddenly the cry of "Death Eater scum!" was travelling over the platform. Someone threw a rock at me. It glanced painfully off my cheekbone. Draco clasped my elbow and jolted me forward and up the steps of the train. He pushed me along and shoved me into an empty compartment. Well, it wasn't empty, but he kicked the First Years out.

"Ignore them," he said forcefully, sitting down beside me. He reached across and rubbed the blood off my face with his sleeve. I hadn't realised that the rock had made me bleed. I probably would have been worried about scarring or whatever, but I knew I was unlikely to live long enough to thoroughly enjoy my looks anyway, so what the hell.

I had forgotten about what people would say to me at school. I had spent the entire summer stressing about returning, that when the day actually came, I completely forgot. I sighed. And that was nothing to what my schoolmates (well, my used-to-be schoolmates) would say when they found me.

"Just ignore them," Draco repeated, sensing my distress.

I wish it were that simple...

**AN: GAH!!! Check it! It's the sequel! I've been talking about it and getting your hopes up forEVER and now it's finally here!**

**Yes, feel free to congratulate me... haha**

**Hmm interesting things are set to happen at Hogwarts this year... Whose side is Snape _really_ on? Poor Teagan? What will she think of Violent as a traitor, after a whole summer to brood over the loss of her now-evil (?) best friend? Not to mention what every other student, excluding the Slytherins, thinks of her now. Oh, and you might not remember this from the books but the Carrows are teachers at Hogwarts this year. What fun for poor Violent! **

**I'm so excited. Seriously, I think I might be a sadist. If you knew all the horrible decisions and scenes I have planned for her...**

**xxx Please review!!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Violent Deliverance**

**Chapter Two**

"Look, boys, they did come back," I heard the group of Fourth Years sneer as I stepped out of the compartment. I had my school robes on and I think I was shaking in fear. Why was I so afraid? I was above them now, wasn't I? The Dark held the school now, didn't it?

_So many questions._

I didn't turn around. I didn't want to know who was speaking. Draco was once more clasping my elbow, pulling me down the corridor of the train and onto the Hogsmeade platform.

"Death Eater scum!" someone shouted again. I wondered if it was the same person from Kings Cross. This was going to get old. Fast. I wondered if it would be me or Draco who snapped and hexed someone first. Probably Draco. I can't hex someone to save my life.

"Evil bastards!" cried another.

We pushed through the aggressive crowd, quite literally tossed a few terrified second years out of a carriage and climbed in. The crowd swarmed around our carriage, banging on the windows, still screaming and swearing at us. Draco sneered at them. I simply looked frightened. What the hell happened to my strength and bitchiness?

It was like a riot. I was waiting for them all to pull out their torches and pitchforks and scream for justice delivered to the evil ogres or something.

_Pitchfork this, bitches_, I thought bitterly, shoving up my middle finger and flipping Colin Creevey off.

The carriage was about to start moving when the door was yanked open. I gasped and threw myself back in my seat, thinking that the riot had begun. But it was two Slytherins - Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.

My ex-boyfriend, and someone who I constantly seemed to bicker with.

The former smiled stiffly, the latter stared at her feet. She muttered a quick hello to Draco, but other than that, said nothing. I watched them wearily. Like Draco and I, they both looked as if the hellish summer had taken its toll. Blaise looked tired; he had bags under his eyes and he was slumped in his seat. That was rare. Zabini was the most poised, elegant person I knew. When we dated for a while, he used to always pick at me for slouching my shoulders and dragging my feet.

Pansy looked sick. Her pale skin was whiter than normal, her cheeks were sunk. Her dark eyes were empty and she'd cut off her beautiful chestnut hair into an edgy bob. It looked cool, but I wondered why she'd done it. I thought sluts were meant to have hell-long hair?

"How was your holiday, Violent?" asked Zabini softly.

I stared at him. "You are joking, right?"

He chuckled, but it was half hearted.

We sat in silence until the end of the carriage ride, when Pansy finally spoke up. "It's going to be hard this year, isn't it?"

I snorted. "Parkinson, at least you don't have to share a dorm with the Gryffindors."

She shrugged. "Not all Slytherins are loyal to the Dark, Faithe. Some are going to turn on us."

"Enough," interjected Draco. "We're going to be fine. Hogwarts will be different. Snape's in charge and he'll keep us away from the other students, or at least give us positions of authority. We'll be fine."

Blaise looked relieved, Pansy looked slightly placated. I think I looked just the same as I did getting off that damned train.

This was going to be _hell_.

~xox~

And I was so unbelievably right.

"Hey, Violent!" some Hufflepuff yelled across the Great Hall to where I floated, magically suspended between the open double oak doors. "What's it feel like to kill an innocent kid?"

I struggled against my invisible bonds. Where the fuck were the other Slytherins? Why the hell had I opted to face the wrath of the Great Hall first? The others were meant to be right behind me. Where the bloody blazes were the teachers. I was five feet from the ground and not happy about it.

I stared out into the sea of taunting, jeering faces, trying to spot someone who looked the least bit sympathetic. I suppose I didn't blame them. I wasn't angry. But I was afraid. If being magically strung up by my wrists was going to be the least of my worries this year, I was grateful.

I looked like bloody Jesus on an invisible cross, and I was _not_ happy about it. In fact, my slender wrists were screaming in pain.

Where the fuck was Draco?

Someone threw a book at me. I mentally kicked myself, realising that my forehead would bruise where it had hit me. Someone else threw a glass goblet. The latter was infinitely more painful; it shattered and the small shards dug into my school robes, sinking sickeningly into the skin of my shoulder. I battled to keep my face from screwing up - I didn't want them to see my fear.

_But I wanted to see theirs._

I recognised the boy standing at the front of the crowd; the one who held the wand that was suspending me here. _Zacharius Smith_.

Target acquired.

"How's your mum doing, Smith?" I sneered. He faltered when he heard me hiss his name. He had obviously thought my only response would be screaming and crying. "I'd owl her if I were you. After this... _incident_ gets back to the, er, _others_... her health might be just a little precarious."

I felt the magical bonds ooze off me, like melted honey. I fell in a heap to the ground. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn't cry out. Go me. Standing up slowly, I gazed around the room. There were only half as many students here.

They were watching me in unease now. Good. I was going to use that. I had to make sure nothing like this happened again. I needed them to fear me.

"Get in your seats, you filthy rats," I snarled, waving my hand sharply, dismissing them. Like the animals I had just called them, they scurried back to the benches. Except for a few.

Ginny Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Luna Lovegood. Teagan Bell.

"What happened to you, Vi?" whispered my old best friend. "It's all a mistake, right?" She pleaded, stepping towards me. I took a step back.

I said nothing, warning her with my eyes not to come any closer. The students were watching us in silence. Luna had lost the dreamy look she usually sported, and instead was watching in interest. Neville looked like he was about to burst into flames, he was so angry. Ginny just looked sad. And tired.

"Of course she did it," muttered Neville furiously. "We all saw her running off with Snape and Malfoy."

I needed to set this straight. I wasn't going to be able to save my friendship with Teagan. Snape had already warned me of this. She was on the side of the Light, and I was lost, drifting somewhere in between. I couldn't have the best of both worlds. She had to hate me, if she was to be safe. And to be a believable Death Eater, I had to hate her just as much. _Starting from now_, I thought with a wince.

"Careful, Longbottom," I whispered, not finding the strength to sneer. I had to do this. It was for the best. They'd be in danger otherwise, I told myself. "I wouldn't want your diminishing family to lose anymore of its scarce members."

Neville stiffened. He looked as if he were about to hit me.

"That is enough," a silky voice interrupted. I turned to see Severus Snape stride into the Great Hall. It was deathly silent. I could see the teachers sidle in and sit at the Head Table, joined by several lower ranking Death Eaters.

"Longbottom, Weasley, Lovegood and Bell, I suggest you take your seats," he threatened in that frightening voice he possessed. "Detentions and House Points will be the least of your worries this year, as far as punishments go."

The four Seventh Years stalked angrily back to their seats. Yeah, Gryffindor courage at its best, I thought, though the internal sarcasm was not quite as on-key as usual.

"Violent. Go to the dungeons."

And Snape walked smoothly up to the front table. I stood there a moment, before leaving the silent Hall. I didn't want to be there anyway.

~xox~

"What happened to you?" asked Blaise as soon as I stepped into the dungeon. His eyes had immediately zoomed in on my bleeding shoulder.

I ignored him and went to sit by Draco, who was slouching against one of the desks in the far corner of the room. He eyed the blood for a minute before pulling out his wand and silently healing it. It still hurt afterwards though.

"Where did you guys go?" I asked. "You all just left me!"

"Snape intercepted us," said Parkinson. "He told us that you had to go in there by yourself first."

"Son of a bitch!" I swore. Of course, Snape let me in there solo. I had to 'learn my lesson'. What a fucker.

"What happened?" repeated Zabini.

"I got bloody strung up between the doors while they shouted and threw fucking goblets at me!"

"Did Snape let you down?" asked Goyle, who had been lurking in the shadows that clung to the back of the room.

"No, of course he blood well didn't!" I was getting angrier by the second. "I had to fucking threaten Zacharius Smith's mother, and then tell Longbottom that he's next in line to inherit the family legacy of insanity! And then Teagan - _fuck you_!" I yelled when the new headmaster swept into the dimly lit potions classroom.

"Language, Violent," said Snape lazily.

"You just sent me in there to face that shit without a fucking warning!? I don't believe you! How could you -"

"I believe, being the Headmaster, that I can do pretty much anything now..."

"You're such an arsehole, Snape. Grow a pair, why don't you?"

Zabini sniggered.

"One more word, Miss Faithe and I will send you away and you can spend the year as Amycus Carrow's personal house elf, am I clear?" he breathed dangerously.

"Like a shallow pond," I whispered back.

He smiled and then looked around. "You are the Seventh Year Slytherins. Everyone hates you. Get used to it. You have blood status, you have favour, you have _power_. Use it wisely. You are no longer required to dine in the Great Hall with those of a lesser standing than yourselves; a small dining hall has been added to the Slytherin commonroom for your express purposes.

"This year there are no prefects, no Heads, no student leaders. Except for you. Seventh Year Slytherins are the enforcers of the student body.

"There are no house points or detentions. If a student is... misbehaving, you may send them to be punished in Dungeon Three. I believe Mr Thorfinn Rowle is in charge of punishment. Send along a piece of parchment detailing the offense and your suggested method of ... reprimand. You are all exempt from castigation thus far.

"Also, you are to look out for any news of the Order of the Phoenix, or any other rebel movement and report them to me directly. You will all be supplied with the password to my personal quarters, but if I am disturbed without a good reason... let me just say I will not be pleased. That is all, you may leave."

And Snape left the room just as quickly as he had entered.

A buzz of conversation broke out as the door slammed closed. Millicent Bulstrode was excitedly telling her boyfriend, Vincent Crabbe, about the wonderful new dining system in the Slytherin commonroom. Blaise, Pansy, Goyle and Theo Nott were all chatting as well.

But Draco and I sat in silence.

Draco was silently contemplating. About what, I had no idea. And I was wondering what the hell I was meant to do this year.

_I'm not a fucking Slytherin_.

I was also freaking terrified of the teachers. Most of them had been Order members and would no doubt hate my guts and on top of that, my would-be rapists, Amycus Carrow and Thorfinn Rowle were going to be prowling around the castle. I didn't doubt that they would have it in for me from day one, no matter what precautions Snape took to keep them away from me. Snape obviously had some clue that Carrow and I didn't get on, but what specifics had he been given? Did he know that they had tried to rape me? I did not relish the thought of retelling that story to my new Headmaster. I didn't even like thinking about what nearly happened to me at Callista's funeral. Which was completely normal for an assault victim, I guess.

"Violent, can I talk for a minute outside?"

"Of course you can, off you go," I said automatically without even registering who had spoken. "But just so you know, talking by yourself is a sign that generally indicates insanity..."

"I meant with you."

I looked up. It was Parkinson. "Sorry, whore, I don't do girls. I'm sure Bulstrode won't mind though. Go ask her."

The girl clenched her teeth in anger but didn't move. "I need to talk to you, Faithe. Right now."

Slowly, I peeled myself off the desk, careful not to bump Malfoy, who was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't even notice me leave.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" I said sharply, as soon as we were out of earshot. We were standing just a bit further down the corridor. It was dark; the candles had nearly burnt out. I wondered vaguely when the spell would kick in and the wicks would replenish themselves...

"Let's sort this. You don't like me; you think I'm some filthy, Slytherin slut, right?"

"Ten out of ten, well done."

"Look. You have no one this year. Let's pretend that we tolerate each other for the sake of appearance. We're meant to be a team. We're both on the same side. And we both need people to fall back on."

Sounds reasonable. This would no doubt benefit me. The more people I had watching my back this year the safer I'd feel. But somehow, I doubted that I'd ever feel safe again.

"Like ... allies?" I clarified. God forbid if she says 'friends'.

"Exactly."

I nodded curtly before walking back into the room and returning to my position beside Draco. This time, he did register my movement.

"What'd she want?"

"An alliance," I answered truthfully.

"Interesting," he grunted before returning to his impenetrable silence.

I sighed. The others eventually began to leave the cold room. I wondered vaguely if I was meant to follow. I still had no idea if Snape intended me to be one of his little Slytherin prefects.

I stayed there sitting in depressing, subdued but not awkward silence with Draco. I think he appreciated me being there, seeing as he didn't tell me to fuck off or anything. After about an hour, he looked up, his now focussed gaze meeting my own.

"You were right," he said, standing up and grabbing my hand. "This year is going to be hell."

I was tempted to say "I told you so". But I managed to convey the message nonverbally because he glared at me. He pulled me from the mouldy dungeon by my hand. I stared at our entwined fingers trying to figure out what the hell it all meant as he led me through the castle.

My long pale fingers were not tight about his, the way his strong hands were gripping mine intensely, as if it would destroy him to let go. And it probably would. I had the strangest notion that the only thing tying Draco Malfoy to reality and his own sanity was me.

It was a shame that I was rapidly losing track of mine.

Draco and Violent. I knew it didn't fit quite comfortably. It didn't seem natural. I knew that we weren't like those couples who went out on weekends and had coffee in gooey little cafes. I knew that we weren't quite normal. I was okay with that.

I knew that in our relationship, the only expectation was held by Draco. Don't leave him. I knew that was my only stipulation. I couldn't abandon him, especially not now that he had managed to survive so long. I didn't expect the same from him. I knew I was going to die soon.

I knew a lot of things, it seemed. But not a single one of them could save me.

My (not really) uncle Rodolphus once told me that to survive, all you had to do was live in the now. Forget the past. Ignore the future. Just focus on the present. My past sucked. My present was hell on earth and barely liveable. And my future was fucking nonexistent.

But Draco had a future. He had a mother and a father who loved him (in their own special, abusive ways) and would protect him at all costs. I had Snape to look out for me. Somehow, I'm not at all that comforted.

But yeah. Our relationship did not conform to the norm. Nor did we expect it to. We weren't together because of some silly crush. We weren't together because we were childhood sweethearts (eww, fuck no). We weren't together because we woke up one morning and realised that we loved each other.

We didn't love each other. We just needed each other. We were Draco and Violent. And we were both just trying to keep each the other warm for a little while, just trying to give the other a reason to keep fighting. A reason to live.

And then there were the perks. Like right now. With the wall outside the Slytherin commonroom pressed up against my back and Draco leaning against me. I'm proud to say that apparently I'm a pretty decent snogger. Deserves a freakin' trophy, I say. And I have to say that Draco's hardly bad. I refuse to think about all the girls he's kissed because it's mildly astonishing, not to mention revolting.

As his hands ran deftly over my ribs and hips and my fingers wrapped around his (incidentally very toned) upper arms, all I could do was sigh and think to myself, _This isn't going to end well. But it's definitely going to end._

Though we weren't married (again, _eww_) the words "'Til death do us part," seemed oddly poetic as they ran through my thoughts (in between thinking about his lips on mine and precisely where his hands were, of course). Because that was exactly what my barely-there future had in store for us.

And the sadder thing was that we both knew it.

**AN: Sorry that this chapter is a little short (only 3147 words)but hey! At least it's an update. It's in celebration of the fact that I'm nearly one hundred percent sure that I _didn't_ fail my religion exam. Oh yeah. I feel proud. One more subject I _don't_ suck at.**

**I'll have you all know that I was giggling madly at my own evil-ness when I wrote The Kiss (yeah, it deserves capitals). Heh heh. I loved writing that. **

**So tell me what you think. Feel free to beg for more Draco/Violent mushy crap. Even though I don't *do* mushy... But still. **

**I mean, c'mon, can you imagine Violent spilling all those cliche lines: "Ohhh, he looked into my eyes and I just _melted_ inside...... I've never felt like this before......*dreamy sigh*"? Seriously? I don't think so. But I can do passionate and angry (which is better in my opinion). **

**Okay.** **Enough of my taste in kissing scenes.**

**xx Please review!!**


	3. Chapter Three

_Disclaimer: I own nothing..._

**Violent Deliverance**

**Chapter Three**

I woke up on a couch in front of a blazing fire. Blearily, I glanced at my watch. Five-fifteen in the morning. I looked around. I wondered why I was sleeping on the couch in the Gryffindor commonroom.

With a jolt of surprise, I realised I wasn't in the Gryffindor commonroom at all. I was in a completely unfamiliar room.

It was... sinister looking. Chains decorated the walls. There were no windows. I sat bolt upright, the warm, heat-soaked sweater that had been serving has a blanket falling from my lap. Two seconds after the initial shock of waking up in an unfamiliar bed/couch, I pieced my precise location together.

Judging by the silver and emerald hangings and decor, coupled with the fact that Draco and I had been furiously snogging by the dungeons last night, I was willing to bet the remainder of my life that I was in the Slytherin commonroom. Not that my life was worth much.

It was dark; the candles had not yet been lit and there were no windows as the commonroom itself was located below the lake. _All Slytherins must have a watch,_ I thought groggily. It would be impossible to tell the time in this room without one, and I couldn't see a clock anywhere.

"Good morning, Violent," I heard someone say. I wondered why I hadn't heard their footsteps; I always listened for the footfalls. I had learnt that. I turned around and saw Theodore Nott walking slowly into the room.

"Hello," I mumbled in reply.

"I hear you're going to be a Slytherin for a while now, eh?"

"Your head's so thick I doubt you hear much, Nott," I answered, the verbal challenge automatically sharpening my senses.

He laughed. "Slytherin or no, you're still Violent."

"You bet your arse."

He sat down beside me. I pulled my knees to my chest and draped the Slytherin sweater over them; it was bloody freezing in here. "Sorry if I woke you," he apologised. "I always wake well before dawn."

"Me too. It's stupid wasting a day to sleep."

_Especially when your days are numbered._

He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Well, at least you'll have me for company in the mornings then. The others don't get up much before eight."

"I'll fix that," I said smugly. I had no intention of sitting down here with just Theo for company each morning.

Not that there's anything wrong with Theo Nott. He was one of my favourite Slytherins. We were quite good friends when we were younger. As kids, Draco, Theo, Crabbe, Goyle and I were often together, seeing as all our parents were prominent Death Eaters. I usually stuck with Theo, as he didn't allow Draco to bully him as much. Crabbe and Goyle didn't have spines, making them the perfect cronies.

But Theo Nott was a pretty scary bloke. He was massive. I'm not aware of his workout routine, but I figured it must be pretty fucking intense to get him to the muscle capacity he is right now. He wasn't bad looking, but he wasn't good looking either. Average. You didn't really see much of his face; it was always buried in a book, and when you did, you were usually too preoccupied with his huge body to really notice his features.

"Done looking?" he asked with a wry smile. Damn it. Caught.

"Looking at what? I don't see anything worth lookin' at..."

"Ha ha. Amusing. Violent's a bitch, what d'ya know?"

"Not much, by the looks of you..." I grinned at him. "Hey, which is Boys' Seventh?"

Theo pointed to my left, at a narrow set of descending stairs. "Down them. Girls are on the left, boys are on the right. Each one along is a year group. Sevenths are seventh door. Get it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You just turned an entirely simple question into a frickin' essay, Nott. Jesus."

"Who's Jesus?" he asked curiously as I stood up. I shook my head, sighed, and walked past him, down the rickety narrow stairs and followed the corridor. I counted the doors on my right as I went and stopped at the Seventh. Funnily enough, despite the complicated directions I had received, engraved on the door was '_Seventh Year Boys_'. For an avid reader, Theo sure was dumb.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. It wasn't messy like I expected it to be. In my head, five boys equalled mess. But in fact, it was scarily tidy. There were no clothes on the floor, no books scattered anywhere. It even smelled nice. I suspected Draco had something to do with that; he was almost OCD in his 'neat and tidy' obsession.

I can't say the same for the sound. God _damn,_ Goyle snores loud. The five beds were all lined up in a row, as the room was narrow, but long, as opposed to Gryffindor Tower's circular dorms. Goyle lay in the first bed, Crabbe in the second, the next was empty so I assumed it belong to Theo, Blaise was tangled in the sheets of the fourth bed and Draco was sitting upright in the last one, staring at me with a curious expression on his face.

I walked towards him and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Did I wake you?"

He nodded.

Geez, you're meant to deny it. "Sorry."

He shrugged. I reach forward, smiling slightly, and tousled his blonde hair. Its silky strands ran through my fingers with ease.

He shot me a funny look before pulling away. "What?"

"You look different without your hair slicked back. I like it."

He frowned. "I look messy with it all over the place."

"Yeah. But it looks good." And it did. The straight, thin hair fell delicately over his forehead, brushing his silver-blue eyes. I was aware that Draco was good-looking, how could I not be? But I had never really considered him as such. I still didn't really look at him like that. Sometimes, when we were kissing or something, I could truly appreciate his unearthly beauty. But other than those occasions, I would look past his appearance.

It might seem as though it was very un-shallow of me, but really it was because I preferred to look at him, at Draco, rather than his aristocratic appearance. The pale skin and silky hair, those piercing eyes and all his muscles and sharp features only seemed to add to that. I was also a little daunted by his looks.

As he grew into them, especially over the last two years, he was beginning to remind me of Lucius. I was too afraid to tell this to him; I knew he nursed a secret fear of his father.

We didn't talk about him if we could help it. I knew that one day the tension would build up and he would tell me everything. Until then, I was content to know that Draco was much more like Narcissa in personality. I was grateful for this.

"Fine. I'll wear it like this today," he said, ruffling his hair up further.

I grinned at him impishly. _Today_. The feared day of reckoning. The first day of classes. My smile fell.

Draco noticed. He didn't even ask why, he already knew. He pulled me closer to him, hugged me to his hard (and bare) chest and pulled me down beside him. His chin rested on my head and mine rested on his shoulders. His arms tightened around my waist and mine found their way to his. Horribly intimate position to be found in by the smirking Blaise Zabini an hour later.

"You do realise that the girls' dorm is across the hall, don't you, Violent?"

"You do realise that I am a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin, don't you, Zabini?" I retorted, sitting up and striding towards the door. Crabbe was stirring from his sleep and Goyle was staring at me curiously as I pulled the door open. "Oh, and Blaise," I called, glancing back with a wicked grin on my face. "Nice boxers. Very 'STD-ridden bachelor' of you." I was referring to the silvery black silk boxers he was wearing.

He waved, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for taking the trouble to notice, Vi, though I hardly think you went to any trouble. It's gravitational, or so I'm told."

I laughed as Draco launched a pillow at his best friend. I closed the door behind me, thinking of the boys' relationship. Last year, things had been tense. Draco had his assignment and seemed to spend more time with me and Moaning Mildred than his house mates. I'm sure there was a spot of jealousy on Blaise's part as well, though he had never admitted to it. It was the first time that Draco and Zabini hadn't been a unit in ... what, ten years?

Crabbe and Goyle usually followed Draco, but that was more out of stupidity than loyalty. They weren't his friends, not by far. Lackeys, cronies. They were only his followers.

Theo really didn't have any friends. He got on well enough with the others but preferred his own company in class and such. Even without his Death Eater kid status, he'd never be able to get along with another non-Slytherin student, due to his intimidating figure.

I went back to the commonroom; Nott was still sitting at the couch, a book to his nose and ignoring the Slytherins who were beginning to get up. I was wondering how I was going to go about getting my clothes and stuff, having decided that I would not even bother living in Gryffindor Tower. I planned to bully a first year into giving me the password (which I hadn't stuck around to find out) so that I could sneak up in the dead of night and get my stuff. I was thinking about sleeping in the Vanishing Room, where Draco and I had hung out all last year trying to fix that bloody cabinet. I headed for the portrait door, staring directly ahead of me, when I ran smack bang into a trunk that was set by the door. Cursing and bending to inspect my bruised shin, I realised that it was my trunk. On top of it sat a letter addressed to me.

What the hell?

I opened the parchment, confusion clouding my pale features and read the note inside.

_Violent,_

_I took the liberty of having your belongings brought to the Slytherin commonroom. No doubt you have little intention of remaining amongst the Gryffindors._

_I expect you in the dungeons this afternoon, straight after class. We have many things to discuss. Be prompt._

_After our meeting, the Dark Lord has requested your presence at Malfoy Manor. He wishes to discuss, as I believe, your future. Be prepared, you will be travelling by Floo._

_Severus Snape._

My blood temperature was sub-zero by the time I had crumpled the note. I grabbed my trunk and hauled back across the commonroom towards the dormitories. Now I had another decision to make. The Girls dorm, and share with Pansy, Bulstrode, and the other filthy sluts? Or the boys dorm, where I'd be infinitely more comfortable, and be called a whore myself?

Crabbe yanked the door open before I reached the knob. He stared at me dumbly for a moment before letting me past. The rude kid didn't even offer to take my trunk for me. I huffed as I heaved it to the far side of the room, where Draco was doing up his tie. He eyed me and raised an eyebrow, not bothering to voice the question on his lips.

Blaise emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a towel that was wrapped around his slim, olive hips. He opened his mouth to say something, caught Draco's eye and closed it again. He turned around and re-entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The strange behaviour led me to wonder exactly what had transpired after the pillow fight.

"Can I room with you guys?" I asked, turning back to Draco. "I have a feeling that sharing a room with Parkinson may end badly... for her."

He smiled. "Yeah. 'Course."

"Thanks." He helped me drag my trunk the rest of the way to his bed, unlike Crabbe, the rude sod. I immediately clicked it open and pulled out my uniform, having slept in my jeans and hoodie last night. I hadn't been bothered to change into my school gear on the train.

I told Draco to turn around and I quickly got changed. I would have to shower at lunch, I had no time. Blaise emerged from the bathroom just after I had done the clasp on my bra. My eyes widened and so did his. Draco growled at him and Zabini scurried from the room, though I could sense his smirk.

I did a few of the buttons of my shirt and draped my Gryffindor tie over my shoulders, not bothering to tie it. I probably looked really scruffy; my skirt was uneven, my tie was undone, my buttons were not done up to the collar and the sleeves pushed past my elbows. But who cares, right? I grabbed my books and we left the dorm in a hurry. Draco grabbed two apples from the fruit bowl that rested on the end of the heavily laden Slytherin table that Snape had allowed us. He tossed one to me and I caught it single-handedly. We hurried to the Great Hall to receive our timetables.

I moaned in horror, realising that I was going to have to wait with the other Gryffindors to speak to McGonagall. Draco squeezed my hand and went to stand with the other Slytherins (Blaise waved cheekily at me – I flipped him off).

I sighed deeply, plastered an ugly glare on my face and stormed over the other side of the hall, hoping that my obvious anger would make the students keep their distance.

I sat down heavily at the end of the table (which was only half full) and dumped my books on either side, to prevent anyone sitting down beside me. Not that they would. I was the Death Eater girl now.

The Gryffindors were openly staring at me as they ate their breakfast. I noticed that only one pair of eyes was not fixed on me: Teagan's. She was looking at her lap, biting her lip and frowning. I sighed again, scowled at the other kids and began to pick at the wood on the table, biting into my apple.

"Miss Faithe," I looked up at the sharp, Scottish brogue. McGonagall did not bother to hide her disgust. It rolled off the woman in waves. Her eyes were furious and revolted and ashamed all at once. She handed me a sheet of parchment, my timetable detailed on it. "Congratulations, Violent," she added bitterly. "You are now the most feared and hated person in this school. And a Gryffindor to boot, to my own deep shame."

I watched as she turned away, fighting back the sting in my eyes and the tightness of my throat. Instead, I made a show of rolling my eyes, flicking my apple core onto Longbottom's nearly empty plate and standing up. I heard the kid swear.

"Language, Longbottom," I tutted rudely. "What would your mother say?"

The plump boy stiffened, his hands fisting over his fork, his mouth open to retort. I shot him a malicious grin before striding over to the Slytherins. They were still at 'F', to my surprise. But I realised that it was because the Slytherin bench was nearly full. Most had returned, having little to fear of the Death Eaters.

I sat down next to Theo, noting that Draco was talking to Parkinson, who smiled smugly at me. "Hey," I muttered.

Nott looked up from his book. "I saw McGonagall talk to you earlier. You looked a little... sick."

Was there anything wrong with just a 'Hello, Violent'? Sheesh.

"Yeah. She gave me the 'you brought shame to your House, everyone in Hogwarts hates your guts, I'm so disgusted by your presence' look."

Theo winced in sympathy.

Draco sauntered over to us, a piece of parchment clutched in his white hand. He was still biting into his apple and chewing thoughtfully. "What do you have first?" he asked me.

And I realised two things: one, that I was still in Gryffindor and therefore would not be in classes with Slytherins all day, and two, that there was a tiny folded piece of parchment stuck to the back of my own timetable. It was small, about the size of a thumbnail. I assumed that it had been magically shrunk. Who would have sent _me_ a letter? I wondered. And then it hit me. Who had I specifically asked to write me?

Remus Lupin.

My face entering a realm of unrecorded pale colouring, a place the Malfoys were as yet unfamiliar with, and my hand shook. Where could I read this without being interrupted?

"Violent?" asked Draco, concern in his voice.

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I have Transfiguration first."

"Damn. I have Potions. What classes do you reckon the Slytherins and Gryffindors will have together?" he questioned.

"Hopefully – what?!" I broke off staring at my timetable in horror.

Where Defence Against the Dark Arts had been, was now replaced by Dark Arts, to be taught by Snape. I shuddered at the thought of being in that class and I was horrified at the thought of what Snape might teach us. Draco caught what I was staring at and grinned thinly. "Did you think that everything was going to be the same? The Dark Lord wants followers, so he's teaching them early. My father said that Muggle Studies was compulsory now, too," he added, pointed at the block on my timetable that indeed said Muggle Studies. My heart sank when I realised that it was being taught by Carrow. Amycus or Alecto, I wasn't sure.

"You'd think they'd ban us from studying muggles," inserted Parkinson, who had been listening intently.

Theo shook his head. "I bet they teach us all the bad things about muggles, how dirty they are, that they should be killed and stuff."

_All the bad things about muggles_, I repeated what he had said in my mind. Maybe Slytherins weren't all evil. The way Theo had said that suggested that he recognised the good things about muggles. I planned to subtly ask him about that later.

"Violent, why the hell are you still doing divination?" asked Zabini looking over my shoulder.

I laughed. "My OWLs didn't qualify me for anything else. I couldn't even get into the stupid oaf's animals class."

They teased and laughed at me as we left the hall, the other students staring and scowling openly. A few called out be we ignored them and they fell silent. Actually, I think Malfoy might have hexed them but hey, what do you do?

We separated at the stairs, as I had Transfiguration on the fifth floor and the others had Potions in the dungeons.

I opened the Transfigurations room door and, to my own annoyance, my mouth fell open in horror. The room contained all the Seventh Year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Professor McGonagall raised a sharp brow at my misfortune and told me to take a seat.

I sat at the back, completely by myself and opened my book. McGonagall began the lesson as if nothing was different, as if there wasn't Death Eater rule, as if Dumbledore was still alive.

My heart twitched in pain, but I chose to smother it with distractions.

I took the opportunity to read my letter. I unfolded the scrap of parchment and smoothed it over my desk. I checked to see that no one was paying me any attention. They weren't, to my relief. I was being studiously ignored.

_Violent,_

_Meet me Friday at your father's cave at seven o'clock._

_R._

Well that was brief...

Holy shit I was meeting with Snape, Voldemort and Remus bloody Lupin all in one week!

"Miss Faithe," drawled McGonagall. "Please remain behind after the lesson."

You've _got_ to be _kidding_ me.

**AN: Yay! A new chapter! There probably won't be another for at least two weeks as I'm pretty busy, but you never know. Sucking up via lengthy reviews works wonders for the update schedule.**

**Also, a little bit of guilt-free self advertising: I posted my Lily/Snape oneshot, entitled _I Loved You More_, and invite you all to check it out.**

**So what did you think? How's Violent going to cope this year? Her would-be rapists are at her school... her peers hate her... her teachers despise her. Gosh, her self esteem must be taking a hit, eh? And the meeting with Voldemort, now that _can't_ be good, can it? It's getting interesting fellas, hold on tight, I've got some pretty hectic chapters coming your way...**

**xxx Please review!**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"Severus?" I called into the dimly lit dungeon. I wondered why he still prowled through the dungeons. Why he didn't take Dumbledore's office. Did it hurt too much? "It's Violent."

"Come in, Miss Faithe." I heard a quiet voice reply. "I've been waiting."

Oh, Merlin, because that didn't sound creepy and paedophilic or anything...

I stepped into the potions chamber; there wasn't a candle or anything. I could vaguely make out Severus behind his desk, shrouded in darkness and depression.

"Violent. We have much discussion to attend to."

How blunt of you, sir.

"Indeed."

Should I tell him that Lupin had asked to meet me? Was he trustworthy? I still wasn't sure, and so decided to keep my mouth closed.

"Have you heard anything from Potter?" he asked, gesturing for me to take a seat. He waved his wand and the door slammed shut. I was sure that he had performed charms on it to prevent eavesdroppers.

I sneered. "Why would Potter tell _me_ what he's doing? Is the grease going to your brain, you fool?"

Snape's beady eye twitched. "I would appreciate it if you kept your insults to yourself. I have no use for them."

"Fine. What's the plan?"

"There isn't one. We wait to hear of what Potter's aiming to do and then -"

"We already bloody know what he's bloody aiming to do, Severus!" I exploded. "Dumbledore told us everything. He gave us everything we need. Let's just work out how we're going to get Gryffindor's sword to Potter, alright?"

Snape gave me that stare. You know, the one that practically screams 'I so wanna tear your face off right now'. I responded in kind.

"A small hitch in your plan, Violent, but Dumbledore's office is magically sealed against me, as his murderer."

Oh.

"Well, I'll go in and get the sword then. Problem solved."

His jaw tightened.

"Oh," I added as an afterthought. "And then you'll be able to use the office."

He flinched. Visibly.

"And what do you propose I do with the sword of Godric Gryffindor after that, Violent? Seeing as you apparently have all the answers..."

"Go to Potter. Give it to him. And then he can destroy the horcrux."

Snape sarcastically clapped his hands. "Oh well done! I'm just going to walk up to Harry Potter, hand him a sword and say good luck, chap, am I? And if I can't find him?"

I rolled my eyes. "As if Dumbledore didn't tell you how to track him."

"You're correct, I can find the boy. But who's to say that I will?"

I stared at him for a good five minutes, my grey eyes probing his dark bottomless orbs.

Traitor.

Was he just saying that?

Was he on my side?

Was I alone in this?

I conceded with a biting "As you wish, Headmaster..." I couldn't risk arguing. I had to appear to be mouldable. He had to think he had control. I would ponder this later. My head didn't have the capacity to deal with Snape's issues right now.

Snape stood up, pleased with my eventual reaction. He reached over to one of the cupboards (that was filled with horrible squirming things in bottles) and pulled out a faded piece of parchment. What the hell?

"The fireplace is that way," he said, gesturing vaguely to the side of the room that was cloaked in shadow. "Go directly to the library of Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord is awaiting you. Remember, Violent," he added as I stepped to my left. "Keep your mind closed."

No shit, pal.

Just as I walked past the headmaster, my sharp eyes caught the words written on the scrap of parchment.

_Love, Lily_.

Aww cute. Severus has Lily's love. Whoop-de-doo. And I get to meet Voldemort. Explain to me just how this is fair? Not that _I_ want Lily's love, but you know...

I took a deep, mind-numbing breath of cold, stale-tasting dungeon air and reached for the bag of green powder that hung from the stone mantle. I stepped into the grate, squelched my eyes shut, dropped the Floo powder and whispered, "Malfoy Manor..."

I screamed as the flames enveloped me; I could see the green tongues of fire licking my body even through my closed lids. I was near hysterical by the time I landed in the parlour of the old mansion, still shrieking for all my worth.

"Good evening, Violent," I heard a taunting voice from the doorway. I looked up, snapping my mouth closed, dusting the soot from my face and met the steely eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

I hated that man. He was the source of many of my more terrifying nightmares. I found the blonde-haired Death Eater more frightening than the Dark Lord, such was the extent of my fear. Lucius Malfoy was the man that introduced me to pain, to regret, to fear itself. I had never really been afraid until I met Lucius, at the tender age of eleven. Even when my mother dragged me through the forbidding, dark forest in Albania in search of the most evil creature on the face of the earth, I wasn't afraid. I was cautious, I was concerned, I was angry, but I wasn't scared.

Lucius altered that. He ripped my childish innocence away from me, and that was something I would never get back, nor forgive him for.

I was eleven the first time that I vomited after seeing something disturbing. It was during the Christmas holidays of my first year at Hogwarts. Mum had introduced me to her friend Narcissa Malfoy, and I was sent to stay with her. She introduced me to her family and I remember thinking that it was okay. That maybe Mum hadn't screwed up with these people after all. I thought that I must have gotten the wrong impression from Quirrell and the man he hid in his turban.

Until all the family - except for Lucius and me - were called out (Death Eater business, most probably... I had no idea where Draco was), I felt pretty safe.

I remember the evil smile Lucius had turned on me as soon as the door shut. I wondered if he was going to hit me or something. He didn't. The blonde man took my hand and led me through the Malfoy mansion, to a mouldy room in the basement.

In the corner, a man was chained. He would have been about forty years old; probably had a wife and kids. I found out later that he was a Muggle. He was sobbing pitifully and I remember covering my ears and asking Lucius what was going on.

He had laughed and said that the man needed to be punished. I asked if he was going to kill him, and Lucius had said "No, much worse. _I'm_ not going to do a thing."

I was confused; I was eleven years old and hadn't really been exposed to torture before. Lucius led me over to the man and made me sit down in front of him, about half a meter away; he wanted me to have the best viewpoint. I hadn't understood at first.

The older Malfoy pulled out his wand and waved it at the crying man. I remember being captivated, rolling those mysterious words around in my mind.

"_Imperio_."

The man had screamed, and his wretched crying increased. Lucius had reached into his robes and pulled out a malicious-looking knife. I watched in morbid fascination as he handed the glinting muggle weapon to the chained prisoner.

Shrieking, the man had taken the dagger and dug it deep into his own thigh. He stabbed at his legs repeatedly, crying out and yelling in agony and fear. He sliced his wrists, he cut his face. He mutilated himself until he finally slit his own throat; drenching me in the spew of his lifeblood. Behind the gurgling attempts at breath from the dying man, I remembered Lucius laughing.

Lucius held my hand and stroked my gore-spatted black hair as he led me from the basement. My cream skirt was a sticky crimson red. My eyes were wide and horrified. I threw up twice on the way back up to the house. Lucius laughed each time. I never told my mother about that. I rarely saw her.

That was my first introduction to real Death Eaters.

Can you really blame me for turning traitor?

"A pleasant evening to you as well, Lucius," I replied bitingly. "Now, I believe I am expected in library, yes?"

Lucius inclined his head regally. "Indeed, I will escort you there myself."

I snorted. "The library is down the hall, Malfoy, I'm sure I can make it without your assistance. Please, give Narcissa my warmest regards."

I left him with an ugly scowl on his face and clenched fists. Ha. Go me.

I sauntered down the hall at my own pace. I needed a few moments to gather my thoughts for the oncoming mental attack. I was glad that Severus had taught me Occulemency in my third year. Things otherwise tend to get out of hand when Lord Voldemort decides to start messing with minds...

I tapped my knuckles on the door the enormous Malfoy Library. It opened by itself (naturally) and I stepped inside. I barely took a second to assess the walls lined with shelves upon shelves of books. It would have been Granger's wet dream.

"Ah, dear Violent," I heard someone call from the darkest corner of the large room. What was with evil masterminds and dark corners today? "I am glad you came."

My eyes focused on the area of the room that the Dark Lord was most definitely prowling. My eyes were trained on the flickering shadows, my ears listening intently to the soft, measured fall of his feet on timber. I kept stone still, awaiting his invitation to join him.

"Come, Violent," called Voldemort from the deep shadows. "I believe it is time we had a little chat."

Sure. Would you like to assassinate me afterwards?

I dipped my head, knowing that he was watching me, and hastened to the far side of the library. I dropped to my knees before his cloaked silhouette. I trained my eyes on the intricate patterns in the wooden floorboards.

I felt movement, and suddenly a brightly flickering candle appeared above our heads. A second later, Voldemort conjured two comfortable armchairs. He moved from me, seating himself in one of the recliners. I glanced up and the snake-like man gestured for me to take the other seat.

_Danger._

My senses were screaming at me not to fall for it. After all, sitting beside him would almost make me his equal, right? He made all his Death Eaters kneel servant-like before him during his addresses. Why me? Why now?

I sat down.

Voldemort sighed and ran his glowing red eyes over my pinched face. His waxy skin stretched into a grim smile.

"You look like your father, girl," he said suddenly.

I was silent.

"The Black brothers were inseparable before they went to Hogwarts, did you know that? No, hmmm. Regulus adored Sirius. But your father abandoned him; got lost in a world of ridiculous ideals and morals. Regulus was left to rot in the mind of your father. He no longer mattered. I'm sure you think of your parents quite a bit, don't you, Violent?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And with reason, of course. Did you ever think about Regulus? Your uncle? No... interesting. He joined me, you know. He saw in me what he once saw in his brother - greatness. He saw my vision. But, alas, the young Black was weak. He had nothing to offer but an extra set of hands and the money of his family. He was near useless. I disposed of him."

_Like you disposed of my mother..._

I was glad I was able to veil all my thoughts from him.

"And Sirius always refused me. He would never join, he said, preferring the company of that Mudblood and her husband. The Potters. I hated them."

Was I seriously having a heart-to-heart with Voldemort? No. I can't be...?

"Have you ever been in love, Violent?" the Dark Lord asked suddenly, leaning forward, staring malevolently into my clear grey eyes.

The question threw me off guard. "No, my Lord," I answered honestly.

The Dark Lord sighed bitterly. "I suggest you never do."

I sensed the end of that topic, and so did not say anything. My curiosity was growling at me though. Had Tom Riddle, _the _Lord Voldemort, fallen in love?

"Tell me, Violent, do you miss your mother?"

I swallowed thickly. Where was this conversation going? "Yes, my Lord. I do miss her."

I watched his face carefully as I responded. I caught the twitch of his left eyebrow. I caught the sharpening of his thin lips, I caught the flinch in his blood-coloured irises.

"And the Aurors who killed her, what do you think of them?"

I gritted my teeth, preparing to push a lie right through them. "I want them dead, my Lord."

Voldemort chuckled blackly. "Oh, come, be more creative. A young impressionable mind is a terrible thing to waste."

"Fine. I want them to die alone, in agony, and with no one but themselves to turn to. I want them to realise that they aren't invincible, that there is no such thing as immortality. I want them to remember me when they die and I want them to picture my face. And I want their remorse to eat them from the inside out."

I was pretty much saying what I wanted to happen to Tom Riddle, but he didn't need to know that...

Voldemort stared at me, intrigue clouding his features. "You know, Violent, if I had asked that question to any of my other followers, they would have given me a descriptive recount of the tortures and curses they would inflict upon their victims. Quite different to what you just admitted. I am interested," he said, "as to why you believe that this punishment - their guilt - is enough for you? Would you not prefer to torture and kill them?"

I shook my head. "Death is all in the mind."

He leant forward; his fixation with this conversation was frightening me. "Explain."

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "Fear of dying is worse than death itself. And if you're afraid of death... then, really, you are afraid of life."

"What makes you say that?" he whispered, a deadly and menacing sound.

Thin ice, Violent. Thin ice. I was discussing this with the man who was so afraid of dying, of being forgotten, that he had decided to take over the world in order to avoid it.

"Well, life is simply the stage before death, right? I think - I'm not sure, but I _think_ I believe in some sort of afterlife and so, the only way to get to eternal happiness, really, is by dying. I don't know if that makes sense, but -"

"It doesn't," he interrupted. "It's ridiculous."

I sighed.

"But intriguing all the same. Have you had any thought as to how you would like to die, girl?"

Boy, had I ever? I almost laughed aloud.

"Yes."

Voldemort regarded my sharp, one-syllable answer and said nothing.

"Are you afraid of me?"

I smiled. "I would be a fool if I wasn't."

"Go on."

What was this? Twenty questions? Seriously, leave me the fuck alone! "Freedom of speech?"

He shrugged. "Would I ask for your honest opinion if you were required to kiss my arse?"

Ha. Ha. Ha. Voldemort had a sense of humour.

Can I wake up now?

"Alright," I started, carefully considering my words. "No offence, but you, er, sort of look like a snake... just an observation. And, you know, the whole 'I kill people for kicks' thing; that can be pretty creepy. And you sort of have my life in your hands, which is probably the scariest thing about you..."

Voldemort chuckled sadistically. Oh god, that was _evil_, right there. "Do you trust me with your life, Violent?"

"Don't be offended, but I don't trust anyone with my life. It's not something that a person can protect, even you my Lord."

"Very true. Tell me, what is your opinion of Snape?"

Well, you see, he's kind of turned traitor with me...and then back again, and now I'm not sure... Oh, and he stole Lily Potter's love. Literally. He has it in writing.

I brushed a lock of silky hair out of my face. Speaking of which, "Well, I'd love to introduce him to some shampoo or something... But, yeah he's alright. Can't say I love the guy."

"What about Amycus Carrow?"

I couldn't help it, really. The hiss of disgust and anger came out of nowhere.

Voldemort laughed. "So you stand to be in the company of murderers and mass executioners, but rapists bother you?"

I scowled. Why don't _you_ go find yourself a uterus and see if rapists like Carrow bother you? Honestly...

"It's revolting. At least murders and mass executioners have a fucking point - rape is for a single lowlife's pleasure. Nothing more."

I really didn't want to talk about this. I really didn't. And especially not to Lord Voldemort himself.

"You're a pureblood, Violent. Sex is hardly new to you."

Ohhh... that's right. I knew there was a reason all the Slytherins were major slags - they're pure-blooded. Lovely. Now I'll be able to explain to Blaise all about those little growths he's been collecting down there. Just joking. I'm sixty-three percent sure he's free of any infections. Not that I've checked. Ugh.

I stayed silent. I was not quite sure what he wanted as an answer.

Hey, Voldemort! I'm a virgin pureblood! Let's get it on!

Ha ha. I don't _think_ so.

"I apologise, that was rude of me," he hissed softly.

Would you look at that - the mass murderer is a gentleman at heart... Aww...

I was tempted to say yes, yes it was rude of you, but I didn't. "It's fine."

"And your relationship with Draco Malfoy, how is that going?" the Dark Lord asked. Seriously. Was the guy too proud to ask his big, tough Death Eaters for gossip? He felt the need to ask these questions of a seventeen year old girl...

"It's still going," I replied stiffly.

Voldemort laughed at my tone. "I'll take the hint. It's not like it's going to last."

"What?" I said sharply. He cut a menacing stare my way. "Er, I mean, what, my Lord?"

"Well, he's promised to the Greengrass girl, isn't he? Lucius did say that it had been arranged," a slow smile crept up his face; he was waiting for my outburst.

_He wants me to react_, I realised. _He wants me to lose control._

I needed to keep a tight grip on my emotions, so that my mind remained closed. He was trying to draw me out. He was trying to get in, using the best method he knew.

Manipulation.

Well, I refuse to give him the reaction he desires. I refuse to be upset, even though that little piece of information seemed to be tearing a sizeable hole in my stomach lining. Was that bile I could taste?

I smiled at him. "That's cool. For now, I'm just happy with the awesome pure-blood sex. You know, the usual."

The Dark Lord threw his waxy head back, the candlelight glinting off his skull, and laughed. His throaty chuckles died down after a minute or so.

"Ahh, you are quite entertaining, Violent. I appreciate your dry humour."

"Glad it met the standard, my Lord."

"You remind me of Callista."

Yep, there it is. Right there. The sudden feeling of drowning in awkwardness.

"I miss her," his voice hissed through the darkness. "I am glad the Aurors never got to you as well."

So am I.

I'm glad _you_ didn't get to me either.

"My Lord, can I ask a question?"

I really had been dying to know.

A white hand twitched. Maybe he knew what was coming. "You may."

"You Marked me when I was seven years old. I don't remember it. Can you tell me why?"

The Dark Lord raised a surprised eyebrow. "You don't remember it? At all? That's very interesting. I had always assumed that you knew all about it," he shook his head and closed those hideous red eyes. "We were in Albania, me, you and your mother, and I chose to Mark you. Of course, Callista agreed. She had to practically drag you from the little house on the fringe of the forest. You kicked and screamed and bit her. It was also the first time you used magic. I remember it, you set half the forest alight, such was the force of your rage," he chuckled. "Callista put it out, of course. And she succeeded in dragging you through the trees to where I was situated at the time, possessing various snakes and animals. You hated me, you know. You were jealous that Callista seemed to like me more. You often threw tantrums about it. And it's true, I am saddened to admit. You were a very perceptive child. You knew that you had become second place in her life. You spent every day in that cottage. You only came out when you had to. You refused to talk to her, you barely ate. Any professional would have declared you clinically depressed. It was me that suggested you become more involved. I possessed your mother and Marked you. You screamed like a banshee. You hit me, you know."

"Sorry," I mumbled. My thoughts were muddled. I had always thought my memory of this day had been blocked; for some reason I could never recall the details. "I don't remember any of this..."

Voldemort nodded. "You passed out from the force of the complex enchantments I placed over you that day. Giving you the Dark Mark was not the only thing I used to bind you to me. Callista never knew the other spells."

"What did you say?" I said sharply. "What other spells?"

That threatening smile was present on his thin lips once more. He was again trying to manipulate me into losing control. "A bit of this and a bit of that."

"Tell me," I growled fiercely.

_In control_, I silently repeated. _Stay in control._

He laughed. "Normally I would curse you for speaking to me such, but I think I shall be lenient."

"Tell me!" I screamed, standing up, kicking my chair back.

Oh shit. This can't end well.

Luckily, I still had a stable door shut over my thoughts and memories; he couldn't get in. On the other side of the coin, I was screaming at Lord Voldemort; practically signing my own death warrant.

"No. I will not. Let's just say there is a reason you find yourself incapable of the simplest spells. That's all you need to know."

My face must have been bright red with the concentration I was exerting over my mind. I had to keep it closed. I had to.

Voldemort sighed with annoyance. He must have realised that I wasn't as easily manipulated as he first thought. I got angry, sure, but I still managed to keep my head in check.

Good for me, I was an angry person - I was used to the rush of emotion, the flood of rage in my body.

"Sit down, girl. You were not invited to stand."

With a deep glare, I sat.

He smiled in triumph. "I've learnt many things about you this past hour, Violent Black," he said my surname like Lucius Malfoy said 'Mudblood'. It was a dirty word. "Such an angry little girl, you hate to be dominated. You hate to know that someone else is pulling your strings. You hate being ignorant. You hate being Marked, even though I have enchanted it so that you and I are the only ones who can see it, you hate yourself so much."

"What's your point?" I snarled.

"You have nothing but hate. You have three options, Violent. You are either going to die, kill yourself from your self-loathing, or join me. Choose."

I swallowed. "Does it matter? I join you, eventually, you'll kill me. I join you, I kill myself from self-loathing. I don't join you, you kill me for sure. I don't join you, the Aurors will take me. None of them matter. Choice is just a funny word for slavery."

I stood up and stalked from the library, slamming the door behind me, but not before I heard his grim laugh and his slithering voice call out, "I will see you in two weeks."

And I will see you in hell...

I paused outside the library door. I swear I heard him whisper something. I pressed my ear closer. Yes. He was still talking. Did he know I was here?

I frowned and leaned closer, catching the last part of the Dark Lord's sentence.

"Oh, Merope, what have you done?"

**AN: Hahah! Cliffie! Woot, I've been waiting to write that for ages!**

**So... How 'bout it then? What did you think? I _know_ Voldemort is severely OOC but I imagine him to have the faintest sense of humour... Ooh and just who did he love? Yeah old Dumbledore (Bless his soul) was right when he said Tom Riddle was incapable of love. But maybe Lord Voldemort wasn't eh? Ahh... don't worry, I have a oneshot (yes, _of course_ it's angsty - that's how I roll) coming soon. It's from Callista's point of view, from when she finds him in Albania to the present. If that doesn't clue you in to his little almost-confession, I don't know how much more obvious I can be...**

**And S-s-snape, he s-st-stole Lily's l-l-love! Sniff... he's adorable. I _know_ Lily can only end up with James (come on, it's a scientific law, people) but I have a little soft spot for little Sev. If anyone else out there sympathises with our favourite greaseball, go read my one shot I Loved You More. Just a bit of shameless self advertising there...**

**Ahh and Merope at the end there? Bet you're all wondering what sort of pills I'm taking for that one to pop out of no where eh? But, as you know, all will be revealed. It's actually very central to the plot. Some freaky things start happening to Violent now... Did you ever wonder as to the reason she's so magically retarded? Well... you'll surely find out.**

**Please review! Beg me about Merope if you like (not that'll I'll tell you anything...) and you're free to comment on Voldemort's rapidly changing characterisation (really, I already know how unconvincing he is...)**

**xx!**


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

I forced Narcissa to side-along me back to school. I didn't want to go back to the parlour fireplace (or any fireplace) and risk running into Lucius again. She took me directly to Snape's office, which was not the best idea. As soon as she had disapparated, Severus turned to me, pushed me into a chair and had his kinky way with me.

Totally kidding. Ew.

"What did he say, Violent?" he demanded, leaning forward. "What did the Dark Lord say?"

I groaned, "Merlin, Severus, you sound like Barty Crouch during the bloody Triwizard Tournament ordeal. Back off, yeah?"

Snape sneered. "Just tell me, insufferable child."

I grinned. "As an insufferable child, I invoke my right to refuse... and then call you an arsehole."

His eyebrow twitched. "Did you give anything away? Does he know anything?"

I sighed. "You want a brief summary? Alright. We talked about death, love, _sex_, rape, murder, er, my past, my family, my mother's murder, oh and he also knows why I'm unable to perform the simplest of spells. Done. Can I go now?"

Snape glared at my rude tone. What did he expect? I was an insufferable child after all. "Why can't you perform spells?"

I grimaced. "He wouldn't tell me. I only know he tampered with me when I was little."

Snape stared off distantly. And then I remembered... the son of bitch was not on my side. Fucker.

"You may go, Violent. Be here at the same time in two weeks."

"Why, thank you, Headmaster," I bit out, heavily sarcastic. "Don't drown on that grease dripping from your scalp now. Ta-ta!"

And I (naturally) slammed the door behind me.

~xox~

"Ooh!" called Blaise as I stormed through the Slytherin Commonroom. "Hey, Violent? You know what they say about wearing a sign when you're PMSing? Yeah, you don't need one. I just gotta look at your face!"

"Fuck a goat, Zabini."

And... no comeback for that one. Score one for Violent.

"Fine, be that way," he called a few moments later.

"There was an opening, right there, Blaise," I called, turning to face the dark boy. "But you missed it. I'm disappointed actually... you don't miss many _openings_."

Blaise blinked at my reference to his man-slut nature. But he was not silent for long. I plopped down on the couch between him and Theo when he said, "Care to give me a tour of this... _opening_?"

I was about to send him back a sarcastic reply, generally insulting his mother and the size of his masculine equipment when Draco's hand snapped down on his friend's shoulder.

"That would be my girlfriend, Zabini."

"Fuck off, Draco, I'm _not_ your girlfriend!"

The entire Slytherin commonroom was watching with mild interest. Draco shot a dark look at me; a silencing look.

I hated silencing looks. I was not his trophy wife that he could just put in a corner when he wanted to have 'big-boy talk'. Speaking of trophy wives, I really wanted to know what was going on with him and Greengrass. The Dark Lord had said they were engaged, right?

Theo sat forward. "Let's just settle down, alright? I don't want a mess."

"I always clean the bloodstains off the carpet," I mumbled.

Draco took a deep breath, removing his hand from Blaise's shoulder. "Watch yourself, Zabini," he threatened menacingly. "Don't try to touch what's not yours."

Oh, _snap_.

I stood up, throwing Theo's restraining arm off. "Well, then you can keep your hands to yourself as well, Malfoy! I'm not yours either!"

"Violent..."

"No!" I yelled, shoving him in the chest over the back of the couch. "Just a minute, here. I am not your little trophy girlfriend! I don't sit, or stay, or roll over. I'm not an animal you 'allow' people to pet and make goo-goo eyes at! I am not _yours_. You have Greengrass for that."

And I was immediately thrown to the cliché phrase: If looks could kill...

Seriously, I think he just murdered me _twice_ with his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he hissed, grabbing my elbow and leading me viciously towards the stairs. We descended them at a rapid pace, to the cheers of the Slytherin boys, all yelling frantically for him to "Punish her" and "Tie her up". There may have been a shout of, "Use that _magic wand_, Malfoy!"

He threw me roughly into the boys' room, tossing me back towards his bed. I wasn't afraid of him, even with my experience at Callista's funeral. I knew he just needed that element of control. He needed my fear. He needed to be dominant. In a nutshell, he needed to be the pure-blooded prince he was raised to be.

"How dare you ridicule me like that?" he growled, the fury evident in his eyes.

I pushed myself up off the bed, clenching my fists. Maybe I could get a neat swing in before he went for his wand.

"Ridicule you? Ridicule _you_!" I screamed. "You just announced to everyone that I was your fucking girlfriend – a fact I wasn't actually aware of – and then treated me like a possession. I'm not an object! I'm not some fancy pure-blood collectors' item. I'm not yours!"

"You're fucked if you're not, Faithe," he glared angrily at me, stepping forward. "Why do you think you're treated so well down here? Because you're with me. And that's the _only _reason. To them, you're just some Gryffindor scum, licking glory off my shoes like dirt."

"I'm higher ranked than you, Draco," I warned. "Be very careful what you say."

He scoffed. "Or what? You'll set your mummy on me? She'd dead. Your dad? Oh, that's right; he's dead too! How about Snape? No, don't tell me, he doesn't give a shit about you. You don't outrank me. I'm a Malfoy. You are nothing."

My lips tightened. "Do you know where I was this evening, Malfoy?"

"With Snape," he answered straight up.

I shrugged. "For five minutes. Then I flooed to your place. Seems the Dark Lord has taken an interest in me... And you know what, Draco?"

"What?" he demanded with an ugly sneer.

"For one, _I_ won't fail him," I said in a mocking tone. He was doing his best to hurt me. Well, I was just as good. "And two, I've always been more than you, you filthy, spoiled, Malfoy brat!"

His jaw locked, and he was about to retort, but I interrupted. "You hide behind your father like a flobberworm takes refuge underground. You bribe and swindle your way out of trouble like a common lowlife, or Mundungus Fletcher. You intimidate with brawn and muscle, rather than using your own abilities. You are so insecure, Malfoy, that you could never please someone like the Dark Lord, simply because you don't have the spine to put your life out there, to risk something. You're gutless, Malfoy. And I don't see that ever changing."

He looked ready to Avada me.

"And you're willing, Violent? To dedicate your life to a cause you're not even sure you believe in?"

I nodded. Neither of us knew which side I was really on. "I have nothing to lose but my life. Seems like a small price to pay for redemption."

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Redemption?" he enquired. "From what?"

My spine tingled. Fuckity fuck fuck. "From me. From what I've done. From who I am."

He smirked. "Any high ranking kid who wants to be a Death Eater would never admit that they were looking for redemption. The Dark Lord isn't looking for followers with regrets."

_I'm already a Death Eater, you fool._

I shook my head, sighing. "Anyone who would be mad enough to join the Death Eaters regrets something, Malfoy. You only did it because they dangled your mother's life over your head. I do it because I don't know better; because my mother brought me up to think that I was like this, to believe that I don't deserve better."

Draco took a step closer. "Deserve better? You think there's better?"

"Of course there's better, dumbshit," I rolled out, exasperated. "This bloody war could never have happened in the first place. That would be better. I could be _happy_ for longer than fifteen minutes. That would be better. I could have you being, you know, a nice guy for a while. That would be better," he rolled his eyes at that one. "But I'm a realist, Draco. Good things don't happen to people like me. I just don't deserve it."

"You deserve whatever you want," he whispered, taking another step closer. We were nearly pressed up against the bedpost now. I could feel his chest rising, gently brushing my body. Oh shit.

Draco Malfoy Defense Plan (A): always use sarcasm and gentle insults.

I can't ignore that logic, can I?

"Spoken like a true spoiled brat, Draco," I bit out.

Why is my heart pounding?

Why the hell was I getting breathless?

And why the bloody fuck did I have the sudden urge to rip Draco Malfoy's clothes off?

Damn teenage hormones.

"I get what I want."

Ooh, _hot_.

"But not what you deserve," I laughed and stepped around him. Best to avoid the weird tingly feeling altogether. And that lusty look in his eyes was making me consider things I shouldn't.

C'mon we were fighting a second ago! Let's go back to yelling and screaming.

He grabbed my wrist. The tingly feeling that I hated to love skyrocketed. My pulse was trying to rip its way out of my artery. Damn hormones.

"Meet me tonight," he whispered huskily.

I had little doubt as to what he meant, seeing as we were currently sharing a dormitory.

"Uh uh, buster," I said, shaking my head and trying to remain in a vertical position as I made my way slowly to the door. "I don't think so."

"At eleven, in the Room of Requirement. Be there," and he swept past me and out the door.

I sighed and turned around, heading back to his/our bed. I couldn't face him in the commonroom right now. I lay down on the bed, twitching my finger to shut the drapes.

I had a lot to think about. I didn't need a sex life on top of it all. Wouldn't mind one but – _shut up, stupid brain_.

So what do I do? I make a mental list. I even gave it a title: Violent Black's Reasons to Throw Oneself off the Astronomy Tower. Catchy, huh?

1. Meeting with Remus Lupin on Friday.

2. Discovering what Voldemort had done to screw up my magical skills.

3. Sex with Draco, not that it had happened yet. Still worth worrying about though. Also working out what he had going on with Greengrass.

4. Getting that bloody sword to Harry bloody Potter.

5. Getting Snape off my back. And get him some shampoo...

6. Deal with Teagan and the other Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs (aka, the whole school).

7. Figure out how to stay out of Amycus Carrow and Thorfinn Rowle's way.

8. Find out who the fuck _Merope_ is.

Hmm, I want to go to ten. It makes it more... formal. Okay –

9. Survive the next meeting with Lord Voldemort.

10. Survive. Period.

Sounds like a pretty hefty list to me. I groaned and threw myself back on his bed. Life just didn't play fair, did it?

And now Draco wants a bleeding girlfriend – not to mention the certain _perks_ that came with that – even though I had made it quite clear that what we had between us was a mutual connection and casual, erm, relationship. He must know that I wouldn't be there tonight. It wasn't part of our unspoken agreement.

We understood each other.

Sometimes we kissed.

And that was all.

~xox~

I had survived the day.

Seriously, my heart was still attached to my coronary artery.

But I wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing just yet. See, I have Muggle Studies next period.

_With Amycus Carrow_.

Otherwise known as my would-be rapist.

I was fidgety and agitated when Slughorn released us from Potions. By the time I got to the Muggle Studies classroom, I was near hyperventilating. Carrow would humiliate me, he would bring up horrible memories – he would _torture_ me.

Despite evidence, and what most people think, Amycus Carrow was not stupid. Sure, he couldn't plan or strategise, he could barely follow the simplest of orders and I wasn't positively certain he could spell his own name, but he was not stupid. He knew how to hurt people, and for as long as I had known him, he had always had an ability to find a person's weakness.

He could find every singly hole in your armour and stick a knife in it.

And I was afraid he would do that to me.

You can probably guess as to the state I was in once seated inside the filling classroom. Yeah, it wasn't pretty.

The Gryffindors on my side of the room were seated as far back as they could, without being near me. And the Hufflepuffs had set themselves up likewise.

I flinched when the door opened and he ambled into the classroom, humming tunelessly under his breath. His blonde-brown hair was pulled back into a stubby ponytail, and his face was dirty. He was disgusting. I nearly retched at the sight of him, and the memories he evoked.

I hadn't acted differently after what happened. I hadn't thought much of it, knowing that thinking about that day would only upset me. I couldn't afford to be upset.

Amycus Carrow set his bag on the teacher's desk, thoughtfully fingering the expensive leather strap. When he looked up, his murky eyes sought mine out and he met them without reproach, a silky smile twisting his mouth.

"Ahh," he started in a voice that sounded too high-pitched for his body. "Miss Faithe. How are you? I haven't seen you since, oh, it must have been when dear old Fenrir Greyback rescued you from the big bad Death Eaters."

I flinched as the class gasped and stared at me, the mention of the werewolf frightening them.

"Stay away from me, Carrow, or I'll have 'dear old Fenrir' come have a _bite_ to eat with you."

Amycus giggled. "You're nothing but filthy little Death Eater whore, Violent," he snarled suddenly, his giggles dying. "Don't pretend you're the Dark Lord's favourite, or that you have any power over me. I am in charge here. One toe out of line, Faithe, and I will send you straight down to Thorfinn Rowle for some torturous punishment. Perhaps I ought to join you... We had such fun last time, did we not?"

"I suggest you shut your filthy mouth, Carrow. That's my final warning."

He giggled again, stepping around his desk. He strode up the classroom, the students drawing back from him in fear. He stopped when he reached me and gooseflesh broke out on my arms. Oh, fuck...

He reached forward, one stubby finger trailing along my cheek. I clenched my jaw and glared at him.

"What would you do, Violent?" he hissed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You can't hurt me."

Fear. I needed him to fear me. If he didn't, he would use me and torment me all year. I needed to set him back now. And it would also be the perfect opportunity to once again frighten the class into staying clear of me.

"I think you'll find that I can, Carrow. Bellatrix owes me a _favour_, in fact, so does Rodolphus. Oh, and Rabastan, too. You see, Amycus, you can't bully me. And if you attempt it, I will make sure that the Lestranges crucio you so bad that your brains leak out your ears like _pumpkin juice _and you are reduced to nothing but a mumbling _Longbottom_."

A flash of fear went through his eyes and I heard Neville near sobbing beside Seamus.

He drew his palm back and brought it down bitingly hard on my cheek. I fought back tears of pain. I stood, glaring daggers at him. ""Get out," he snarled viciously. "I'll not be threatened by a fucking whore like you, Faithe. Get out."

I grabbed my empty bag (I didn't bother bringing books to class anymore) and stormed from the room. When I got to the door, I stopped.

I turned and faced him, eyeing his red cheeks and bulging eyes. "You know, Amycus, I think we were wrong. We believed in clearing the world of Mudbloods and bloodfilth, but I now think that people like you should be exterminated. You're scum, Carrow, and you fucking well know it."

~xox~

"Yo, Faithe, wait up!"

"Fuck off," I called over my shoulder, not bothering to look and find out who it was.

I heard the person groan. "Fine then, I won't tell you!"

Damn it. I hate that line. It makes it absolutely necessary for me to know what they wanted to tell me in the first place. If I ever have children (oh haha, very funny joke, Violent) then I shall banish that sentence from their vocabulary.

I spun around and nearly gagged seeing Pansy Parkinson jogging up to me wearing... a belt.

Seriously. It could not be considered a skirt. I bet she didn't even need to lift it when she peed.

"Nice, Parkinson," I drawled, covering up my shock. "Been _working_, I see?"

"Studying," she replied with a sniff as she fell into step beside me.

I snorted. "Call it what you like."

"Oh, believe me, I will."

Fast retort. Wasn't expecting that.

"No doubt. So tell me, darling, what the fuck do you want?"

Pansy grimaced at my tone. "I have a message from Snape. He said you're not allowed to share the boys' dorm, and you have to move your stuff into our room. It goes against the school's code of ethics or something."

I gaped. "Hogwarts has a code of ethics? What the fuck? It's run by terrorists!"

Pansy wrinkled her face up. "What's a terrorist?"

"Google it," I replied, quoting my half-blood ex-friend Teagan Bell. As I understood it, Google was like... a library in a box. Tegs said it was friends with something called the Interknot. Whatever.

Pansy shot me a quizzical look, facially declaring me crazy. But she followed me back to the Slytherin commonroom anyway.

"Blood vermin," I hissed to the snake-portrait, and it swung open. As soon as I stepped inside, I once more swung around to face Pansy McSlut.

"What do you want now?"

"Snape asked me to help you move your stuff. He said you weren't able to levitate."

Fucking Potions prick...

"Fine. On your way then. I presume you know where the boys' room is? I mean, you spend most nights in there, right?"

Pansy's eyes flashed. "I've learnt not to focus on just Slytherins," she said delicately. "I spread myself around, Violent."

"Lovely," I bit back. "Wouldn't want _just_ Slytherins getting all your infections."

"Fuck you," she snarled. As if she didn't bring that on herself...

"Unfortunately for you, Parkinson, that is not anatomically possible..."

Pansy grunted and walked off. Merlin, she's such a troll...

I plopped myself down on the couch, knowing that Parkinson would deal with my belongings. I wasn't worried about her snooping either; I didn't have anything worth looking at. She'd be disappointed.

~xox~

_"Mum!" I screamed. "Mum, stop running!"_

_I was tearing through the overgrown shrubbery and trees in the Forbidden Forest. It was the same pathway that Draco and Snape had dragged me through last year, but I didn't pay attention to that._

_Callista was ahead of me. I could see her black Death Eater robes swishing as she ran. Why was she running? Why couldn't I catch her?_

_I screamed her name once more, a terrible fear settling like ice on my heart. Callista stopped and I nearly slammed into her. She turned to me, pulled my into her warm arms and cradled me against her. I kept asking why she was running. She wouldn't reply._

_"You're dead, Violent," she said in that calming peaceful voice she possessed. It was completely at odds with her morbid words. "The Dark Lord is going to watch the blood drain from your body, he's going to watch you drown in your betrayal, he's going to destroy you, Violent."_

_"No..." I sobbed. "Mum, don't say that..."_

_"You deserve it, Violent. You deserve to die like me."_

I woke on Friday morning, gasping and sweating. A new sense of fear had enveloped me. My dream had intensified my terror tenfold. I tossed and turned, trying to get back to sleep. It was well before dawn, and I had decided to just spend the day in Hogsmeade. I didn't have to meet Lupin until seven, but I was sure that it would take me many hours to work out what to say to him.

He knew. Somehow he knew that I was Sirius Black's daughter. I needed to know who told him that. Sure, I had filled him in on the fact that I was a sort-of traitor, but he shouldn't know about my parentage! Sheesh.

My dream still fresh in my mind, I got up and walked to the commonroom, before resuming my pacing. I walked up and down and up and down and up and down.

I paced for two hours straight before I was interrupted by Theo Nott.

"Wow, Vi, you don't waste time."

What's that supposed to mean?

"Fuck off, Nott."

Nice, succinct answer. He should understand my agitation.

"Back to Zabini, eh?" Theo continued, grinning as he plonked himself in the comfy armchair. "And you only dumped Malfoy on Monday."

I sighed – I was so sick of these rumours_. Violent Faithe is fucking Blaise Zabini, ending her relationship with Draco Malfoy. Violent Faithe is a Death Eater whore. Did you hear? Violent Faithe shagged Malfoy, Goyle and Zabini at once!_ They were all the same and all equally ludicrous.

And Astoria Greengrass - a fifth year - slapped me for coming on to her fiancé (or something). Don't worry; of course she's in the hospital wing. I don't take being physically abused very well. Madam Pomfrey assured Daphne that the bruising and swelling would be down by the end of the month. What? Shoving someone through a plaster wall and then down two flights of stair and being thrown through an old portrait does that people!

"Okay, Nott. Listen and listen good," I whirled around so that I was standing directly in front of his chair. "I did not _dump_ Malfoy; we were never together. I did not shag Zabini, nor do I plan on it. I did not snog Goyle for any amount of money and I am not out to steal anyone's fiancé. And, for the record, I did not fuck Snape either. Are you satisfied?"

Theo laughed. "Sure. There's just the matter of the rest of the school..."

I grimaced. "Well, they can all go fuck themselves hard and proper. I'm off, good day."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

I went back into the girl's Seventh dormitory (it completely sucked that Snape had ethical legislation to prevent me from sharing with the guys) and pulled on some clothes. Simple jeans and a sweat shirt did me fine and I covered it with a long black cloak that I may have stolen from Bellatrix...

Because it was so early, and because Snape had granted me access to any part of the school, I was able to simply stroll right out of the front doors, no disillusionment charms required.

The walk down to Hogsmeade was long and tiring, however slow I went. By the time I got to the little village, it was nearly nine o'clock. I wondered how the time had gone so fast.

Hogsmeade was shockingly empty. Many of the shops were boarded up, there were no people meandering along the cobbled street. It was derelict. I wandered up the lane, towards the end of the lot. I passed Scrivenshaft's (which had its front window smashed in) and jumped the fence by the stream.

I scrunched my face up as I walked up the hill, trying to remember the path that Pothead, Weasel and Bucktooth had taken in third year. They still didn't know that I had followed them and that mangy dog.

I remember being so frustrated and agitated when Granger cast a spell over the cave. I could not get in. Every time I stepped past the spell's boundary, I was transported to the other side of the mountain. It was infuriating.

But not this time.

This time I was able to clamber over the boulders and grassy hillocks with ease, scrambling my way up the hillside with the grace of a mountain goat.

It was when I got to the entrance of the cave that I stumbled in shock.

Eight red-cloaked men surrounded me, their wands pointed at my throat. How the fuck did they sneak up on me so fast? Sure, I had been concentrating on my feet, but honestly!

I threw my hands up; a peace gesture, and yelled, "I'm unarmed!"

They disarmed me anyway, and to their disappointment, nothing happened. Pfft... as if I'd carry a wand.

"Violent Faithe?"

I nodded, turning to the cloaked figure who had spoken to me. I vaguely recognised his voice. "You are now in the custody of the Order of the Phoenix. _Petrificus Totalus_!"

My body went rigid, only my wide grey eyes moved with fear. Stiff as a plank, I toppled to the ground, landing in a pile of mud.

I hadn't yet decided if I was frightened or relieved that the Order was arresting me. I was not yet sure if this custody meant protection or execution.

I tried to look up when I heard the swishing of fabric as the Order members began to remove their hoods. I strained my neck, but it was no use. I could not see anything but the gluggy sludge I was lying face-first in. How undignified.

Suddenly, a crack filled the air. "Stop!" I heard someone shout. "Who authorised this? Why wasn't I informed?" This voice sounded even more familiar.

"We don't have to –"

"Yes, you do!" argued the newcomer. Merlin, I wish I could see. "Release her, right now!"

"Remus –"

Ah. And now it makes sense. My saviour (I think) was Remus Lupin.

The Body-Bind curse slid off me, and the curious sensation of pins-and-needles attacked my nervous system.

I struggled to my feet, ignoring the numbness, and glared at my captors. I was surprised to see that the leader was Mad-Eye Moody. Even though I knew it wasn't him, every time I looked at the crazed ex-Auror, all I could see was Barty Crouch. Not comforting, I tell you.

My scowl was enough that he took a step back, a fact I was proud of.

Lupin was standing to my left, a deep grimace on his haggard features. I could tell he was trying not to look at me. Was it because he knew who my father was? He had said _your father's cave,_ hadn't he?

"Alastor, take the others back. I need to speak to Violent."

Mad-Eye Moody did not look pleased with this turn of events – he thought he had just caught the new Death Eater girl.

And, just to rub it in, I said, "Yeah, Alastor. Do as you're told."

Stupid, I know.

But so worth it when he shot me a Voldemort-worthy glare.

They pulled their cowls up once more and disapparated, all shooting me disparaging looks of deepest loathing from beneath their hoods. I waved; a delicate flickering of my long fingers.

Turning to Lupin, I bared him the smallest of smiles, a tiny hint of the gratitude I felt. Turns out I didn't want to be captured after all...

He sighed and ran his hand through his greying, dark brown hair.

"Geez, Professor," I stated bluntly. "You look like hell."

He rolled his eyes. "Your dad used to say that to me after the full moon."

I stiffened.

He definitely knew then. I had been hoping that it was merely a mistake in his letter. A fool's hope. I wondered how he had guessed it.

My jaw clenched and fists tight, I turned away and stalked off towards the edge of the rocky hill. With a tense exhale of anxiety, I sat on the rock, waiting for my father's friend to join me.

I had never given much thought to this long awaited conversation. I had stressed over it, I had imagined it and I had dreaded it. But I had never worked out what to say.

_Hey, Remmy! I'm your best mate's long lost kid turned evil! _

It's great, I know.

I felt him sit down beside me; his patchy robe brushed against my thigh. My brows furrowed. I would just wait for him to talk, I decided. He could get this necessary conversation going...

We sat in silence for nearly ten minutes. The air was cool and empty. It smelt like destruction; that sickening stench that I can't name. I hoped vividly that I was not a Seer, because my senses were tingling and telling me that something bad was going to happen.

"You Know Who plans to use you in the last battle. I received a letter from your mother that was only given to me yesterday. Dumbledore had it."

I turned to face him, eyes wide at the mention of Callista, and met his chocolate eyes. They were filled with sorrow and pity.

Remus sighed deeply, as if he were a bearer of bad news. But really, in these times, who wasn't? "Violent, you have a curse on you. You've had it since you were born, and it was awakened when you were seven years old, when you received the Dark Mark."

I flinched. How the fuck did he know all of this? What was he talking about? Did he know the spells the Dark Lord had cast on me? Had Callista told him in this secret letter of hers? And why did Dumbledore have it? I was so confused...

My body was strung tighter than Merlin's backend whilst I waited for him to go on. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted the rest, but my curiosity and overwhelming desire to be free of Tom Riddle's hold got the better of me.

"Your family – the Faithe side – have a ... shall we say, tradition? While I was researching your family history, after I found out that Callista had a daughter, I noticed that your family tree originally had a motto: _fidèle à la mort_. It means –"

"Faithful until death," I interrupted. "I know it."

Remus shook his head. "Actually, the direct translation is _faithful to death_. It doesn't make sense to you now, but it will."

I rolled my eyes. "I thought it was just Dumbledore, but apparently all Order members talk in riddles."

He smiled briefly. "It's a gift. Anyway, one female of every generation is... well, cursed."

"Let me guess," I broke in, dryly. "I'm cursed... and I'm going to die." That would be just my luck.

He shrugged. "I don't know about the last bit, but yes, you are cursed. Fortunately for most of the members of your family, it's been dormant. That means –"

"I know what dormant means," I cut in once more.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Are you always this rude?"

"Are you always this annoying?"

He laughed. "You are definitely Sirius' kid..."

I said nothing. I've never accepted that I act like my sire. I'm a firm believer in the 'I'm a victim of my upbringing' crap. Having never met my dad, I did not think I could possibly act like him. Our similarities were extrinsic only.

"Anyway, it's been dormant. The only descendant I managed to dig up that showed signs of having the curse – well, the stronger strain of it, at least – was your great grandmother's cousin. She had an abusive childhood, er, and she was thought to be a squib. She couldn't raise her wand to save herself. She didn't survive the conversion."

I frowned. This was beginning to sound ridiculous. "The conversion?"

"When the curse takes over your body; basically, as far as I can tell, you get these abilities. They're not all good either, so don't get too excited."

"Excited? Apparently the last person died. Trust me, professor, I'm anything but excited."

He swallowed. "Right. Well, that's all I could really find out. So, er, maybe go to the library or something and try and find some genetic curses that sound like that."

Ever the teacher.

"Fine." I would have to go into the restricted section for that. Luckily Madam Pince quit her job this year – no one was manning the library anymore and I definitely would have no trouble getting in. It seemed they were handing out books on the Dark Arts like lollies on Christmas these days. Suddenly, I remembered what I was going to ask earlier. "What was her name?"

"Whose?"

"The girl that died."

"Oh. Merope Gaunt."

I stared at him. When he began to look confused at my frozen face, I quickly turned my head.

_Oh, Merope, what have you done?_

She just kept popping up. Who _was_ Merope Gaunt?

"And, Violent?"

"What?" I asked, standing up. There was too much for me to think about. My head hurt.

"If you ever need to get a message to me, give it to Professor McGonagall. She can pass it directly through to me."

Now, if I was a true Death Eater, I have reason to ... apprehend Minerva McGonagall for contact with the Order.

But thank Merlin I'm not.

"I will. But not often. They expect me to be..."

Remus stood up and nodded. "I understand. You have to play the part."

I sighed and stepped away, preparing myself to trek back to the school. "Well, bye then."

"Violent?"

"Yeah?" I turned around. Lupin was standing a meter from me, a pensive look on his haggard face.

"Sirius was one of my closest friends. You're so much like him – brave and strong and all that. I just wanted you to know that."

I didn't know how to respond. I was nothing like Sirius. I was not brave or strong. I was weak. I was pathetic. I couldn't even pick a fucking side in this war. So I smiled, even thought it hurt physically. I lied with my face; displaying a happiness that was not inside me.

It placated Remus and he disapparated with a wave.

As soon as he was gone, I turned back around and began to walk up the hill again. I had little reason to go back to the school.

I could feel a tightness in my chest and I knew it was stress and anxiety. I was worried. I was cursed. I didn't know what would happen and I didn't know if I would survive it. Merope didn't.

I sat down once more, leaning my back against a particularly large boulder. And then I placed my head in my hands and began to sob.

_I can't do this._

**AN: Alright. I know it was absolutely crap. I've had bad writer's block and to recover I just kept writing and writing and writing to the point where my head/fingers/throat/eyes hurt and I wanted to throw my laptop in my next door neighbour's pool... (not the best method to get those writing thoughts going) ... and this was the result. To be fair, I figured that because it was sooo bad, I would make it reeeaaalllly long. So this chapter is over 6000 words. I know. High five to everyone who just went 'whoa'. **

**Soooo, we're beginning to find out what's going on with Violent... (Oh, and by the way, I posted her family tree on my authors page, so you can all see directly how she's related to Merope).**

**Hopefully the wait won't be as long for the next chapter. I'm on holidays now so I have more time to write! YAY! Hopefully my laptop will not have found its way into my neighbour's pool be the end of my break... ;)**

**Tell me what you think (even though it was crappy) I love reviews!**

**xx**


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

"Open your books!" demanded Snape in that annoyingly silky voice he possessed. I was sitting in the Dark Arts room, with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and we were studying the cruciatus curse.

Most of the kids looked frightened, others looked pathetically defiant. Only Longbottom had been physically ill thus far, but I predicted it wouldn't take long for others to lose their breakfasts.

"Violent, please explain the necessary words, wand movement and intent needed to successfully perform the curse at its most agonising."

I grimaced at being called upon. This was the only class I feared to attend, seeing as I no longer went to Muggle Studies with Carrow. And Snape seemed to think he was being nice to me by having the other students fear me more. I suppose he was right; as my knowledge of the Dark Arts became apparent in class, I received less glares in the corridors. My peers no longer bothered me; they looked at their feet and scurried past like rats.

"A sharp flicking motion," I began softly. "The word is _crucio_, and to hurt the person most, you have to mean it. You have to _want_ them to suffer."

Snape nodded. "And its advantages?"

I took a deep breath in and continued. "Extracting information; mere seconds under its grip and one may spill their darkest secret. It depends on the strength of the victim. Er, plain old torture, I suppose. It can even be used for murder."

"Murder. Yes, please tell the class how this curse can be fatal."

I swallowed dryly, noticing that in the row in front of me, Neville Longbottom was shaking violently and Seamus was glaring daggers over his shoulder. "With the right malicious intent and prolonged exposure, the victim can be killed. Often the heart stops from the pressure, or maybe a blood vessel explodes in the brain. It has been recorded that the victim's brains and fluids even leak from their eyes and ears and such."

"And you would know, wouldn't you, Death Eater scum!"

I was slightly shocked to see that it was Teagan, my ex-best friend, who had spoken. We hadn't interacted since I came back to school this year.

"Miss Bell, it appears that you will be our first, shall I say, _victim_ for today's lesson, for speaking out of turn. Come and stand up here." Snape waved his wand and a few desks floated to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the centre.

I was staring at Teagan as she bit her lip and shook her head, her eyes glazed with tears of terror. I gulped. I hated the Darks Arts class. We had been forced to practise dark curses on each other every lesson.

I was glad, now, that I was cursed and could not perform basic magic. However, I knew I was capable of the Unforgivables – I had used them before. They were the three spells that I could use easily, without struggle. They weren't weak, like when I tried a basic _lumos_. They were powerful and I hated them.

"Miss Faithe, would you do the honours of demonstrating this curse to the class?"

I shook my head.

"Violent."

My head kept moving from side to side. I would not crucio my friend. I was not that cold-hearted.

"Violent, if you do not follow my orders, I will have to swap you with Miss Bell and she can curse you."

I grimaced. Merlin, Snape could be thick. "Fine, let's do that."

The class was silent as I stood, clearly not expecting that response. I wasn't afraid; I knew Tegs would not be capable of a fully fledged cruciatus curse. I was prepared for a tingle of pain and that was it. After all, I had been crucioed by Bella and the Dark Lord. How bad could hers be?

I stood in the middle of the empty space, the entire class looking on in mild horror. I knew they were secretly glad that it was me who was the victim and not Teagan.

"Miss Bell, please stand before I tire of this and demonstrate upon you myself," smirked Snape, sickeningly eager to see the spectacle I had made for myself.

Teagan was shaking in front of me. I took a step towards her. She was crying, her dark eyes wet with tears. I wondered briefly if she was upset about performing the curse on _me_ or performing it at all. I grabbed her hand. "Tegs, just do it." I whispered, wanting to get this over with so she could sit back down and cry on Lavender's shoulder. "It's fine, seriously."

"No," she sobbed. "I can't... I don't want c-_crucio_ you, or anybody..."

I took a step away from her and dropped her hand. I reached into my robes and pulled out my own wand. The class gasped in shock and I saw Seamus and Ernie leap to their feet, their own wands drawn.

"Sorry, Teag," I muttered before crying, "_Imperio_!"

Her eyes hardened and I detected the metallic sheen in them that was evident in anyone who was under the Imperius curse. Mentally, I bade her to crucio me. Her wand arm lifted almost automatically, like a mutant puppet. A freaky mutant puppet with no strings.

"_Crucio_!" she said in a voice devoid of all emotion.

It hurt more than I thought it would. Like a fire, burning my skin. It still wasn't as bad as Aunty Bella's – hers was a blinding inferno that bit bone deep. Teagan's was barely a sting beside that torture.

It lasted for nearly five minutes before I dropped to my knees. My hands gripped my head, my fingernails digging into my scalp. I knew that a true curse – one with the correct casting and intent – would have me writhing on the floor screaming in insufferable agony.

But this was just pain.

And I was used to that.

Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I heard Severus say, "Enough," and he must have lifted the curse because the fire vacated my body. Shakily, I pulled myself to my feet. Teagan looked shocked – her normally olive skin was a sickly green and her mouth hung wide in horror at what she had done. Snape pushed her towards her seat, and Lavender Brown pulled her down, away from the teacher.

It was a double lesson, the last of the afternoon, I realised with a flash of dismay. And knowing Snape, he had probably planned for everybody to have a turn on each other.

Sick bastard.

"Pair up," he said softly, a sadistic twitch in his lip. "You must all have performed the cruciatus curse at least once before you may leave. I have no qualms about staying here until midnight until it is done."

"Wait," I said, my voice betraying the shaky fear that wracked through my body. "They can practise on me. It'll go quicker and, frankly, I don't want to hear their whining about doing it on their friends."

Snape cocked his head. "Your reasons are valid," he replied, smiling in that vindictive-bastard way of his. "Line up, class."

I endured fifteen bouts of around five minutes of skin-sizzling pain. I didn't scream once for the first fourteen curses, but the room was filled with my groans and gasps. I kneeled on the floor, not trusting myself to remain standing, nor undignifying myself to lie down.

You would think that the pain would lessen after a while, after your body accustoms itself to it. It's not true. Sure, some students are better than others, or rather, they hate me more. So really, it's just varying degrees of the same mind consuming pain. It doesn't lessen, or become gentler. It's just pain. But like I said, I'm used to it.

To everyone's shock, especially my own, the last curse, the fifteenth, elicited a cry of agony from my unwilling mouth. My eyes flickered open and before me stood Neville Longbottom, his wand arm shaking with rage and unsuppressed emotion but not lowering.

A soft moan escaped my lips as my hands clenched and I threw myself forward. I was on all fours on the cold floor, groaning and crying out in pain. But I understood Neville's need to hurt me.

I bared an uncanny resemblance to the woman who had stolen his parents, his childhood, his happy memories. He needed to take that out on me because I was the only one who he could rightfully take it out on.

I emitted a strange, low keening as the intensity of the curse grew. Shit, Longbottom meant business. I really hadn't expected him to want this. Like the rest, I had figured that Longbottom resented this curse and would be hesitant to use it. But Neville didn't hate the curse – he hated the woman who had used it.

To him, this was justice at the best he could give it. This was his revenge. I was taking it for Bellatrix. Man, that bitched owed me.

I gritted my teeth and despite the overwhelming pain and urge to shriek until my lungs could no longer contain the sound, I managed to stagger to my feet.

"Enough," I whispered, and Neville dropped his wand. It clattered to the floor and the class was silent, watching me.

He was staring at me in open-mouthed horror – at himself and what he had just done – and seemed frozen. I watched him for a minute, allowing my eyes to soften, to show him that I did not plan to take my revenge. I bent forward, even though my every fibre was throbbing with undiluted agony, and picked up his wand. I handed it to him and turned around, hobbling back to my desk. I grabbed my books and shoved them in my bag.

I left the class room, ignoring the whispers and the eyes that followed me and stumbled my way out of the castle. I could not face the Slytherins after this – they would never let me live it down. Taking the pain for a bunch of blood filth was inconceivable to most of them. And I was afraid of what Draco might say to me.

I wandered down the path, my muscles still clenching in pain. I was unsteady on my feet but I didn't fall. I dropped my book bag on the edge of the Forbidden Forest and walked in, peeling back the thick branches that prevented easy access.

The forest was silent.

It reeked of decay and death. I knew that many of its creatures had hidden themselves deep within its depths in the hope of not being found by some malign force.

Like myself.

I found a small clearing, by a slowly oozing stream and sat down at the base of an enormous pine tree. Knotgrass and thorny bracken laced the ground at my feet. The place was devoid of colour; perhaps it died when I entered.

I leaned my head against the tree, closing my eyes in thought. I had been coming to this place for the last three weeks. I found it calming and peaceful. It was silent here, and I craved silence.

I hadn't planned on playing the hero this afternoon. I just couldn't bear cursing Teagan. She was still my friend, even if I was meant to be evil.

Evil people don't have to be dark _all the time_, do they? Merlin, I needed a manual.

I hadn't planned on taking the pain for the others either, but I did. I just didn't think I could watch an entire class of fifteen kids having their innocence and childish mentality ripped to shreds by having to curse their friends like that. My life was fucked up enough without having to feel responsible for that sort of shit.

I did feel a faint blossoming of pride for myself for doing it though, and it made me smile.

I did something right. I did something truly _good_. For someone other than myself.

Perhaps I was a real Gryffindor at heart, after all.

I heard a soft noise to my left and I flicked my head up. Entering the clearing, I was shocked to watch, was a small herd of thestrals. Their skeletal black figures looked eerie in the shadows. There were five of them, their white glowing eyes staring at me as they considered whether or not I was a foe. Finally, the leader (I think) folded his wings and stepped forward. He walked slowly to the stream, his ears still perked and alert and began to drink. The other four followed, but much slower.

I jumped when one of them nudged my elbow. Tentatively, I reached out and stroked its cheek. The short fur was soft and did little to hide the bones that I could feel beneath its skin. The creature began to hum with satisfaction as I scratched down its neck. I smiled and continued.

Thestrals were symbols of death. I knew that; they were bad omens. But I didn't find that morbid or depressing anymore. My life is filled with omens of doom and destruction – it does little to pay attention to them. In fact, thestrals were on the insignia of my family tree – the Faithe family tree.

They were meant to have a great sense of direction – they had take Harry Poophead and his band of merry men all the way to London without a map when I was fifteen. I envied that. I wish I knew where I was going, or even where _to_ go.

I had always been able to see them, when they pulled the carriages. I never mentioned it to Teagan or any of my housemates, afraid that they would ask too many questions. Now that I think about it, I'm glad I can see them. They remind me about how close Death lurks. How easily it can strike. I can see them, and I wondered sadly how many people would be able to see them after the end of this war.

If there was anyone left.

I stood up and the thestral jumped back. I left the clearing in a hurry, grabbing my bag when I reached the fringe of the forest. I ran up to the castle without breaking stride – it was just past sunset and there was someone I needed.

I had been stupid and stubborn and I needed to apologise.

Actually, I wasn't sure what I needed. But I knew what I wanted to do.

And now my thoughts were all muddled.

I ran through the castle and found him leaving the library.

I grabbed his sleeve and pretty much dragged him through the castle. I ignored his protests and shoved him into the Room of Requirement. I pushed him onto the sofa that had appeared, right in front of a roaring fire. I pulled my jumper over my head and then reached up and yanked off my tie. Facing Draco, I quickly undid the buttons on my shirt and let it slip from my pale shoulders and fall to the floor.

I watched him stare at me as I stood there in my bra, stockings and skirt.

Rolling my eyes, realising that he wasn't about to move, I said, "I was wrong. And selfish. And I've decided that you need this. That we both need this."

Then he moved.

Very quickly. We were both naked within a matter of mere seconds.

Sex had never really fazed me. I had never been nervous about my _first time_, like Teagan was. Nor had I been anticipating it, like the Gryffindor hooker, Lavender Brown. I hadn't been horrified and embarrassed like Bucktooth - oh sorry, I mean _Hermione_ - Granger.

I had never cared. I had known that eventually I would get around to it, but I had always had other things on my mind.

Besides, this wasn't _really_ sex. I mean, I didn't love Draco. I needed him. It was completely different. I only needed a reason to hang on, just for a little bit longer. And to me, he was that reason.

I'm not going to pretend and say that I'm willing to die for a good cause, for Dumbledore's cause because I think it's right. I'm willing to die for it because I am this way. This is me. This is my decision. I couldn't possibly be me – Violent Faithe Black – if made any other choice. And Draco was a heavily weighing factor in that decision.

And I felt, by betraying the Dark, that I was personally betraying him. A boy who trusted me beyond anyone, beyond himself. I knew Draco loved me, I had known since last year. He needed this more than me and if I was able to give him some small comfort, just a little thing like sex, who was I to selfishly say no?

Because, like I said. It didn't matter to me. I was dead anyway. Might as well take as many experiences with me.

I barely paid attention while he performed a contraceptive charm and I settled myself on the sofa. He leaned over me and I closed my eyes. I didn't care, I reminded myself. This is for Draco. He needs me.

My internal pep talk faded when I realised that for some reason, I actually _wanted _this. For me. I had thought I was doing it to console Draco Malfoy, but in actual fact, we were both consoling ourselves. In the best way we knew how.

But it _did_ hurt a little.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into my jaw and I adjusted myself on the sofa. I wound my arms around his back and kissed his shoulder.

Was this meant to be awkward?

Was I supposed to feel overwhelmed by emotion? I couldn't even _name_ the feelings that were coursing through me – I didn't recognise them.

Well, except for one.

Happiness.

I felt happy, here wrapped in the arms of the boy who loved me, who trusted me, who wanted me beyond all others, despite my own reservations.

I was _happy_.

What the fuck?

Eventually, the pain faded and I was able to move without a horrible ache rushing through my centre. I leaned up and captured his lips with my own. I ran my hands through messy platinum hair, my fingertips brushing through the soft, silken strands. His arms were tight around me, gripping where they could. My hips, my arse, my ribs, my breasts. He ran his fingers over the creepy necklace I had received from my mother.

My hands travelled down, over his face and shoulders. While we moved, I traced the scars along his chest. I remembered when he got them, last year. Potter had cursed him. Then my eyes, clouded with passion and that ridiculous _happiness_, caught sight of his left forearm.

The Dark Mark swirled menacingly on the pale skin there, a reminder that we were both victims of this war. That we were both being used. I pulled his arm to my face and pressed my lips to it, kissing the blackened skin. Draco hissed, and I wasn't sure if it was from pleasure or shame.

I hadn't expected it to be this... sweaty. It wasn't particularly hot in the bare room, our perspiration came from the intense friction between us.

"I love you," he whispered as all his muscles clenched at once and a blinding shudder ran through my frame. I cried out in pleasure.

He'd never told me that before, even if I had suspected it. It had always been a sort of unspoken agreement not to talk about it.

I couldn't say anything back.

I couldn't lie to his face like that.

So I kissed him and I fell asleep in Draco's embrace, comfortable and happy.

~xox~

"Violent," someone shook me. "Wake up."

Blearily, I opened my eyes. "Huh?" I asked groggily, sitting up. I was still in the Room of Requirement and I was still naked.

Draco smiled. "I brought you dinner."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly midnight," he replied, checking his expensive silver watch. "I went to the kitchens, 'cause I realised you weren't at dinner this evening."

_Ow, everything hurts_, I thought as I tried to stand up. "Thanks," I muttered, my cheeks pink with embarrassment,

What the hell? Why would I be _embarrassed_?

"You're welcome," he replied, and stood up. "I have to go see Snape. My father's here."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew." It was not unusual for Lucius to appear in the middle of the night to see his son. It was often the only time the creepy man could get away, seeing as Malfoy Manor was now the base of operations for the dark Lord.

He laughed and turned towards the door. He stopped as his hand gripped the doorknob and came back. He dropped to his knees in front of the sofa and pulled my face into a searing kiss.

"Thank you, Violent," he breathed, his breath tickling my now-sensitive lips.

"You're welcome," I smiled at him, trying not to show the pain in my lower abdomen as I sat without moving.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

I nodded. "Bye."

And he left.

I sighed and pulled myself off the sofa. "Son of a bitch," I muttered as I hobbled around, pulling on random articles of my scattered uniform.

Fuck, it hurt.

I made my way back to the Slytherin commonroom. _Slowly_. I often had to pause to steady myself.

I crept, silent as Voldemort, back into the girls dorm. I heard heavy breathing and gentle snores and relaxed. I inched across the room to the little corner in which I had set myself up and eased my aching body onto the bed. I groaned at every movement.

"Gryffindor?" I heard a hiss. That's what the girls – Parkinson, Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis and Lucille Urquhart - called me, refusing to use my name.

I jumped and then moaned in pain at the sudden shift. I peered across the room. One of the green hangings had been twitched back on the bed near the door. Damn; I couldn't remember whose bed it was. I didn't see anyone so I pretended I hadn't heard and pulled my curtains closed. Maybe the girl would go back to sleep. I closed my eyes. I needed to sleep...

Barely a moment later, the emerald fabric was yanked back, and a warm body settled itself on the edge of my bed. My eyes snapped open and began to once more adjust to the darkness. I saw a glint of glass as the girl pulled herself onto the bottom of my bed.

_What the fuck?_

"Hey," she said softly.

"Uhm," I replied. "What the fuck are you doing?" I tried to sit up to sound more menacing but found that it hurt a bit much to move.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked. I stared at the shadowy outline at the foot of my bed. What the hell?

"I don't know what you're talking about. Piss off."

"Well, judging by the way you waddled in here as if you've just been ripped apart from the inside I assumed that you fucked Malfoy. Was I wrong?"

I stared at her with my mouth wide open. It was Pansy. Of course.

Even in the darkness, I could tell the girl was smirking at my gobsmacked reaction.

"So, are you okay?" she repeated, leaning forward.

I groaned again as I attempted to sit up. "Yeah."

She smiled wryly and handed me a bottle. That must have been the shiny thing I had seen when she ambushed me. I glanced at the label; it was a strong brand of whiskey. I shrugged and took a swig of the amber liquid, my breath hitching at the burn as it slid down my throat.

Pansy's smile widened.

"Why do you care?" I asked after recovering from the stinging at the back of my throat.

The smile fell.

"We're not that different, you and me. And I felt bad about just letting you suffer by yourself."

I looked at her deeply, puzzled. How the hell is this the Pansy I know and hate?

"I don't hate you, Violent. I know you're having it tough at the moment and I really felt bad about... you know, all the bad blood between us." Pansy shrugged and took a long drink. "I've sort of been waiting to talk to you when the others aren't around."

I narrowed my eyes. "Have you accidently done a personality switching charm?"

She laughed. "Nah. This is me. I just don't normally behave this way in front of the others. I have a certain image to keep, you know? So did you screw Malfoy or what?"

I nodded, once again feeling the throbbing ache between my legs.

"First time?" she asked sympathetically, seeing the closed and slightly ashamed look on my face.

I nodded again.

"Was it... alright?"

"Yeah. I didn't exactly have the highest expectations so... it was alright."

Surprisingly, I didn't mind this side of Pansy, asking me such personal and uncomfortable questions. It was actually like... she cared. I would have thought she would want to know for her own twisted enjoyment and Bulstrode wouldn't give a damn and tell me to get over myself. She was actually being really nice.

She nodded in understanding and once more handed me the bottle. I drew it to my lips, this time relishing the fiery alcohol.

"Why don't you have many friends, Pansy?" I asked her quietly.

"The girls are threatened by me and the boys don't see much past my –"

"Yep. End that sentence _right_ there."

Pansy laughed slightly. "You think I'm pathetic and useless the way I treat sex, don't you, Violent?"

I paused before answering. Forbidden territory. _So_ not my favourite conversation topic. At least she wasn't about gush about her flings. I used to be treated to an hour of analysis whenever a boy merely smiled at Teagan. Not that I minded. It was a perfect opportunity to zone out. But I couldn't in this conversation. Pansy expected an answer. I wasn't even sure how _I_ felt about sex yet, let alone her. "I don't understand it, nor..." I thought about a word I could use. I didn't want to offend my new ally. "Respect it. But I don't think you're useless or pathetic."

_I'm useless and pathetic_.

Shut up, brain.

"It's not that bad. I'm not ashamed."

"But do you regret it?"

"Sometimes. I regretted some of the guys that actually had feelings for me. I preferred it to be, I don't know, casual. Unanimous. Just sex and not a relationship."

"Easier to maintain," I mumbled. I was getting sleepy.

"Yeah. And easier to end."

_Easier to end_.

Everything in my life is easy to end. It's having the nerve or the reason or the motivation to do it that I was having trouble with. I could easily dump Draco (not that he was my boyfriend!) and just be Violent again. Not having to worry about what I wore, how I looked, if he _really_ liked me (pfft... as if I was that fickle). I could easily tell Snape that I didn't want to be an in-between anymore. That I'd picked my side and that the Order can fuck themselves (but now I didn't know which side he was on).

_Easier to end_.

I could easily walk off the Astronomy Tower and not have to worry about ending anything – I'm sure the ground would rush to meet just a little too soon for the panic or fear to set in.

But like I said. I just need some motivation to do it.

"Do you regret it?"

Huh? Oh right. She was still here.

I thought for a minute. "Not really. I wish there was a better time for us, but that's the thing isn't it? Time isn't ours anymore. We don't have the luxury of picking the perfect moment." I realised that the alcohol was loosening my tongue and I was feeling very comfortable. "No, I don't regret it."

"That's good," Pansy nodded, her short dark hair bobbing in the darkness. "Do you love him?"

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Draco, silly. You know, the guy you _just had sex with_?"

"Oh. I don't know. It's not like that. We're not like that."

She cocked her head. "Well, from what I hear, he really loves you."

I didn't bother to ask who told her that. Everyone who knew Draco well enough could probably guess. "Yeah."

"Did you tell him you loved him?"

I frowned. "No. Because I don't. Not like that."

She nodded. "Good. He hates to be lied to. He'll probably like you more for waiting until it's true rather than saying it because you feel obliged to."

I nodded, not really understanding. I didn't say it because I didn't feel it, not because I was waiting for some perfect moment or whatever.

"Do you need a contraceptive potion?" Pansy asked, touching my arm.

"What?" Damn. I really shouldn't drink. It just makes me confused.

"Contraceptive potion. I have some," she shrugged. "I may be a slag, but at least I'm an organised one."

Was she calling me a disorganised sort-of-slut? I really couldn't tell. I'd almost had half a bottle of this whiskey and it was _good_. Speaking of – I took another swig.

She summoned a small vial from her trunk and handed it to me, unclipping the lid. I swallowed it, making a face at the bitter aftertaste. I chased it down with more whiskey.

"Tired?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Alright. Good night, Violent."

"Good night, Parkin – Pansy."

She smiled and pulled me forward into a soft hug before getting off my bed and pulling my curtains shut.

What the fuck? I fell back on my pillows and emitted a hiss of pain.

Lesson of the day: it is unwise for one to lose their virginity after experiencing exposure to the cruciatus curse.

Fucking painful, I tell you.

But I fell asleep with a small smile on my face despite the dull ache between my legs and the alcohol buzzing in my brain.

I couldn't believe it. I still felt happy. I wondered when it would wear off.

Because I knew that my happiness had an expiration date.

Just like my life.

**AN: I told you I'd post it! Shun the non-believers! Shuuuunnn.**

**Ahem. So, what did you think? All up for an awkward reviewer question? Good. I'd like some comments on the sex scene because it was really hard and slightly uncomfortable for me to write. I'd like to know if I was still in character and if it flowed okay... Thanks. :)**

**I'd also like to point out to you, in case you missed it, how quickly Violent made the choice to sleep with Draco. It was a snap decision, and one she didn't regret. I'd just like you all to think about it in comparison to the other major decision (you know... the which side is she on, what's she gonna do? decision) and how easily it came and how quickly she decided. I've come to realise that in this story, Violent appears to be indecisive, and in reality (well... my little fiction world reality) she's not.**

**Oh, and shout out to TheRugMaster: yess! I'm starting to give Pansy a personality... sort of. More to come, I promise! ;)**

**Please review! xx**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

I was summoned to Dungeon Three at exactly eleven thirty at night, two weeks later. I had no idea what was going on as I slowly made my way down the stairs, but I went anyway. It wasn't like I had a choice. I was shivering by the time I reached the door and raised my hand to knock, but it swung open with a gloomy sound.

"Violent," a horribly familiar voiced hissed from my left. "So glad you could join us."

I turned and tried to mask my shock at the sight. The Dark Lord's Inner Circle was seated at a long table, lit with blue flickering candles. Rodolphus smiled at me, but didn't dare wave. Lucius glared. Bellatrix smiled in that insane way of hers, but the amusement never reached her dark, possessed eyes. The Dark Lord was seated at the head of the table, with Snape on his left and Bella on his right.

Damn it. I wish I had never been invited.

"Come, sit," he said, gesturing to nowhere in particular. "Bellatrix, move down one."

Bellatrix looked horrified at the thought of losing her position to me. I was more fearful, knowing that she'd probably punish me for it later. I stepped forward and took the seat that Bella had glaringly vacated.

"Now," said the Dark Lord, glancing around. "It came to my attention that Violent never received the customary initiation ceremony."

There were gasps and lots of open staring. They all knew my mother's relationship with the Dark Lord, but thanks to the advanced disillusionment charm on my Mark, not one Death Eater – other than Snape – knew that I was one of them.

"Violent was marked when she was seven, before you begin the questions. And she has been a welcome member to our... _little club_," he laughed sarcastically. My knuckles gripped the table.

Oh, no...

"Lucius, pour the girl a drink," Voldemort hissed, maliciously smiling at the blonde haired man. Now fallen from grace, Lucius was little more than a servant in his own home. I pitied him.

He stood, leaning over the table, and filled my glass with wine. I was worried. I didn't know why I was here – Snape hadn't warned me – and I didn't believe the bullshit story about my initiation ceremony. I knew the Dark Lord didn't give a doxy's arse about that.

"Have you heard any news of Harry Potter, Violent?"

I frowned. "Only what's been in the papers. And that's all crap, right?"

"I need the boy. I need to kill him. How can I kill him, Violent?" Voldemort stared at me, his crimson eyes dark with determination.

With a wand... duh.

Positive that he wasn't interested in my witty, sarcastic response, I said, "When?"

"As soon as possible."

I blinked. "I mean, do you need him gone by a certain date, or...?"

I saw his jaw clench. "Everyone out," he said softly. "Except for Severus, Violent and Bella."

Bellatrix looked smug as the Death Eaters filed from the room. The Dark Lord nodded at Snape, who then turned and cast an imperturbable charm to prevent them listening in.

"You're aware of my horcruxes, aren't you Violent?" asked Voldemort, standing and turning to face the small fire.

"The parts of your soul, yes my Lord."

He nodded. "Potter is looking to destroy them."

He wasn't supposed to know that. How did he know that? Oh, shit, he was going to kill Potter! No, that couldn't happen! Harry needed to live.

"Is he now? Does he have anything to destroy them with?"

"No, he can only destroy it with Gryffindor's sword. And that's here at Hogwarts."

I raised a brow. "Well, he's going to have to come back to Hogwarts then. Honestly, I think you should wait. Pretend you don't know that he's looking for them."

"No," insisted Bellatrix. "Track them. Grab Weasley or the Mudblood. Potter will hand over any of the horcruxes he may have, and show himself. You can kill him, my Lord. Attack the heart!"

I rolled my eyes. Someone obviously watches too many B-grade thriller movies... Or whatever Teagan called them. "I think that is a good plan, Bella," hissed Voldemort. "Potter is too loyal for his own good."

"No," I said, after a moment's thought.

"No? You think Potter would let his friends die?" asked Snape.

I shrugged. "You killed his precious mummy and daddy. He wants you dead, my Lord. He'll probably try to do something heroic and fail miserably. Or do the cowardly thing and run."

The Dark Lord frowned pensively, and I flinched at the sight of his mangled features tight with concentration.

"Hmm, it is such a decision to make. I need to protect my horcruxes, but as you said, the boys needs to come to Hogwarts to destroy them."

"Bait him, my Lord," whispered Bella seductively, her hate-darkened grey eyes flashing in hope. "Get the Mudblood or the bloodtraitor and torture them. He won't be able to resist..."

I shook my head. "He won't come. I promise. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Beaver –whoops, um, I mean Granger – made him make an Unbreakable Vow for such a situation. Whilst Potter and Weasley aren't, she's smarter than that."

Snape nodded. "I agree with Violent."

Lord Voldemort nodded, but I could tell that he wasn't entirely convinced. I could tell he wanted to finish Potter as soon as he could. "Bella, Severus, leave us."

I didn't allow my eyes to widen or my mouth to dry up, although it was instinct. Snape and Bellatrix left the room, the latter shooting me the dirtiest glare possible as she went.

"My Lord?" I questioned. Something was happening. I could sense that something was wrong. Did he know of my questionable allegiance? _Had Snape told him?_ Was he going to kill me?

"Violent, I'm going to offer you a deal," he withdrew his wand and I shuddered, imagining a variety of curses he could throw at me in that second. "I will tell you all you want to know about the curse of your ancestry if you do a small favour for me. A token of your loyalty to our cause, if you will..."

The curse? He would tell me about the curse? The library didn't contain a single book that would tell me a thing about it.

I was tempted.

And I hated it. I hated that he was able to dangle something like that in front of me and expect me to bite.

"What do I have to do?" I asked in trepidation.

Instead of answering, he walked to the other side of the room, and with his wand, opened the large cupboard that stood unobtrusively in the corner. I could see a huddled form inside – a person – with a bag over its head.

"Violent, I'd like to introduce you to your former Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour."

I blinked, and my mouth dropped open as the Dark Lord vanished the sack that concealed the sobbing man's face. Scarred skin stretched over sallow cheek bones as Scrimgeour turned to look at me. His eyes were haunted, pleading with me, begging me to have mercy.

I didn't know if mercy consisted of killing him and putting the suffering man out of his misery, or foolishly attempting to save him, ensuring that the both of us were killed.

Scrimgeour dragged himself from the cupboard, long fingernails digging into the cracks between the stones of the floor as he pulled himself toward me. There was a dull moaning coming from the back of his throat; a morbid echo of his pain.

I flinched and glanced up at the Dark Lord, awaiting his instructions.

Although, I already had a hunch as to what he wanted.

"Kill him," he hissed, the malice penetrable in his voice. "Do it. Now."

I closed my eyes, praying that I wouldn't cry.

Scrimgeour smiled sadly, and a broken whisper escaped his bloodied and blistering lips. "Please..."

I staggered back.

Hadn't Dumbledore begged the same thing of me?

Hadn't I been willing to comply?

_Kill him_.

Why?

_He's dead anyway. The Dark Lord will kill him anyway._

I can't... I can't do it.

_You've done it before. Remember the Auror you murdered over the summer?_

That was an accident... I didn't mean to. This is murder!

_It's kill or be killed, Violent. This is your life, Death Eater._

N-no...

_Do it!_

I –

_Kill him now!_

I reached into my robes and pulled out my wand. My thoughts were heavy, inconclusive. I felt water-logged. Out of control.

"Violent," the Dark Lord breathed. "I have little patience."

I swallowed back the bile in my throat and stepped forward once more, steeling myself for the inevitable.

"Avada kedavra..." I whispered, and green light filled the room. I retched. As the light faded and my eyes adjusted once more, I tried not to listen to the sinister laughter of the Dark Lord echoing around me.

I stared at the spot where Scrimgeour had lain on the dungeon floor. There was nothing there.

"It was a test, Violent," said Voldemort in explanation. "An illusion. Rufus Scrimgeour has been dead since we took the Ministry."

"I... I don't..." my voice was shaky.

A cruel smile tightened on the Dark Lord's face as he came closer to me. "You were so strong, my girl," he hissed with pride. "Your mind was so well-trained. I could not use Leglimency on you until the exact moment when you fell apart. When he begged you to take his life. Interesting..."

I paled.

He had gotten into my mind.

I had been broken.

The feeling of horror refused to fade away, and I was ashamed to think that I had killed a not-real-guy and could only worry about the fact that Lord Voldemort had read my thoughts.

I swallowed dryly, trying not to look at him, for fear that I would see fury in his eyes. I didn't know how deep he had looked – I didn't know if he had seen my betrayal.

"Now, Violent. This curse. Ask me your questions."

I blinked. He mustn't know of my betrayal, I thought. He would have killed me.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"Do you know about the Deathly Hallows?" he asked. I still refused to look at him.

"Of course," I replied, somewhat shakily. What child that had grown up in the wizarding world did not know about the Hallows?

"It is common belief that there are three Hallows – the Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility and the Resurrection Stone," he began, reiterating what I already knew. I stared at the spot where the illusion of Rufus Scrimgeour had lain, imagining blood on the floor and staining my hands. I blinked. "But that is incorrect. There are four Hallows."

I frowned and finally glanced upwards. The Dark Lord stood closer than I had thought, in fact, he was barely a foot away from me. His crimson eyes bore into mine and I was startled to realise that he was trying to use Leglimency again. It was only when this thought crossed my mind that I began to feel the tugs on my brain as he tried to penetrate my steel mental defences. I was pleased to know that I already was using Occlumency, subconsciously and without thought.

"The fourth Hallow was not an object, but a person."

I sighed, already seeing where this was going.

"You are a Hallow. The Faithe women all were, except that the power has lain dormant."

"And how do I become an un-Hallow?" I asked bitterly. "How do I get rid of it?"

Voldemort stared at me strangely. "You will not. We're going to unlock it."

I groaned in frustration. "Unlock what? What is it that is so bloody special!?"

In other circumstances, I'm sure he would have cursed me for swearing in his presence, but I think he was so preoccupied with the idea of more power under his command that he didn't even notice. And also because he let me get away with so much.

"Each of the three brothers owned an item that prevented them from dying. Invisibility, power, connection with lost souls. You, Violent, are Death. The one they tried so hard to avoid."

"That's... comforting," I remarked dryly. "Now, what does that mean?"

Voldemort grinned manically. "It means you can, once you have unlocked your abilities, control Death himself. I know of one person who unlocked her curse and it only happened, from what I have discovered, in a moment of pure grief or desperation."

"Oh wonderful!" I said with a bitter grin. "I'm looking forward to feeling like shit so I can control Death! Yay!"

He frowned. "I didn't invite Sarcasm to this meeting, Violent. So bottle it."

I blinked. That didn't sound like something Lord Voldemort would say...

"My Lord, don't you think that I would have unlocked it when my mother died?" I glanced down, unable to watch his beautifully crafted lie.

"Perhaps you didn't love your mother enough."

I ground my teeth. "Perhaps. Or maybe it's because it's all a load of bullshit."

"I'd crucio you, Violent, if I didn't think that it is belittling for a woman such as yourself."

"I'd crucio _you_, if I didn't think you'd kill me..." I muttered. My dark humour seemed to take my mind off the fact that I had potentially murdered a man five minutes ago. That he was an illusion built to test my loyalty was of little consequence. Real or not, I had killed Rufus Scrimgeour.

And I was horrified.

He laughed.

"I can't force these abilities out of you, Violent," he said pleasantly, moving – if possible – even closer. "Believe me – I have tried. It's on you. Do whatever you deem necessary – I don't care at whose expense – to release the Hallow. To become the Hallow."

"Yes, my Lord," I submitted, bowing my head in fear. He was much too close. His nose was barely a handspan from my face and I felt uncomfortable.

"If it is not done in, say, a month... we will revert to more... _basic_ methods of extraction."

I flinched, recognising the hidden threat of torture. "Yes, my Lord."

"Now go. Do whatever is necessary," he reiterated, waving me from his presence. I nearly ran from the room, not pausing to mock the Death Eaters who had their ears pressed to the door in the corridor.

I bolted all the way to the dormitories.

"Violent?"

I pushed past Blaise and Theo and slipped as quietly as I could into the Girls' dorm. The girls were asleep, and I crept past them all and burrowed myself in the comforting sheets on my four poster bed.

It was too much.

It was building up again, I could feel it. That overwhelming flood of anxiety and raw panic. I had managed to suppress it rather well lately, in part due to my relationship with Draco, I guess. But now it was back, stronger than ever.

Impending doom.

It sounds dramatic, but then I have to remind myself that my life is a carefully scripted play. The genre? Why, tragedy, of course. My own special tragedy.

As I lay, curled up in the foetal position, I began to sob softly into my pillow. No tears escaped my eyes, but I couldn't control the shaking that contorted my body.

"Violent?" I heard as I registered my hangings being twitched back.

"Let the Gryffinslut sleep," I heard someone else say harshly.

"Shut up, Millicent," I heard Pansy Parkinson snarl. I realised it was her peering through my hangings and I struggled to gain control of my pathetic sobbing. "The only person around here who likes your mouth open is Crabbe, and that's just disgusting."

Millicent fell silent, muttering as she tried to ignore Pansy's sexually implicative comment.

"Violent, you okay?"

"Fine," I grumbled. "I'm bloody fine."

Pansy sighed. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck off, Parkinson," I growled.

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry for being _nice_. Merlin, can you say overreaction?"

She let the hangings fall shut and I heard her climb back into her own bed. I didn't feel guilty, even though we had actually become sort-of friends. Well, allies. We helped each other out on occasion, and had even had a few meaningful conversations. But she wasn't in on this. She didn't know just how fucked up I was.

A Hallow.

I was a fucking object - a weapon - that Voldemort intended to use at every opportunity. And this Merope woman, whoever she was, had _died_ when it was released in her.

Death itself. I was meant to control Death. I wondered if I was going to shoot avada kedavras from my eyes or something, perhaps breath toxic gas so everyone chokes and dies. I didn't know how it would work. I didn't know if I wanted it to.

Raw emotion would unlock it, he said. I didn't want emotions. They were tricky and hard to manage. I was not one to cope well with feelings of any sort. I was logical and bitter, I was not built to deal with all the airy-fairy stuff. Fuck that.

I refuse to be an object.

I refuse to be a weapon.

I refuse to be the destruction of the entire wizarding world.

I refuse.

**AN: **

**Oh my lord. Guys. It's here. **

**I have beaten my severe case of writer's block with a blunt stick, chased it to Mexico, tied it to a pile of rocks and drowned the damn thing in the ocean, after setting it on fire. So no fear, I am BACK, I am WRITING, and I will most certainly be UPDATING.**

**I'm so sorry for the wait, and I also apologise for the quality of this chapter, as it is definitely not one of my best. Violent's mind is a hard one to crack and it took a little bit of adjusting to get back into her personality.**

**In other news, please tell me what you thought in a review, or even just berate me for my tardiness, whatever floats your boat.**

**xx KAI xx**


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